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Full text of "A life of Napoleon Bonaparte; with a sketch of Josephine, empress of the French"

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A  LIFE  of 


WITH  a  Sketch  ^/JOSE- 
PHINE, Empress  of  the 
French.  Illustrated  from  the 
collection  of  NAPOLEON  En- 
gravings made  by  the  late  Hon. 
G.  G.  Hubhard^  and  now  owned 
by  the  Congressional  Libraryy 
Washington,  D.  C,  supplemented 
by  Pictures  from  the  best  French 



New  York 
McClure,  Phillips  ^  Co. 

M.     CM.     I. 

Copyright,  1894,  by 
S.  S.  McCLURE,  Limited 

COI'VRUJHT,  1895,    BY 

S.  S.  McCLURE,  Limited 

Copyright,  1896,  by 
THE  S.  S.  McCLURE  CO. 

Copyright,  igoi,  by 

First  Imfrkssion  Fkbri'ary.  1901 
Skconi)  1mi'rkssi«)n  April,  1901 



-       '  -  J 




L  Youth    and    Early    Surroundings. — School    Days    at 

Brienne  .  .  .  .17 

IL  In  Paris. — Lieutenant  of  Artillery. — Literary  Work. — 

The  Revolution 27 

III.  Robespierre. — Out  of  Work. — First  Success     .       .        .43 

IV.  Courtship  and  Marriage. — Devotion  to  Josephine    .        .    53 

V.  Italian  Campaign. — Rules  of  War    .  .  .61 

VI.  Return  to  Paris. — Egyptian  Campaign. — The  i8th  Bru- 

MAIRE  .  .89 

^  VII.   Statesman    and   Lawgiver. — The   Finances. — The   In- 

^>^"  dustries. — The  Public  Works     ....  105 

VIII.  Return  of  the   £migr1§:s. — The  Concordat. — Legion  of 

Honor. — Code  Napoleon  .  .  .119 

IX.  Opposition    to    the    Centralization    of    the    Govern- 
ment.— Prosperity  of  France         ....  133 
X.  Preparations  for  War  with  England. — Flotilla  at  Bou- 
logne.— Sale  of  Louisiana  .  .  .  .  .143 
XI.  Emperor  of  the  French  People. — King  of  Italy    .           .  151 
XII.  Campaigns  of  1805,  1806.  1807. — Peace  of  Tilsit    .           .  163 
XIII.  Extension  of  Napoleon's  Empire. — Family  Affairs        .    179 
XIV.  Berlin  Decree. — Peninsular  War. — The  Bonapartes  on 

the  Spanish  Throne 191 

XV.  Disasters    in    Spain. — Erfurt    Meeting. — Napoleon    at 

Madrid  .......  199 



XVI.  Talleyrand's  Treachery. — Campaign  of  1809       .  .211 

XVII.  Divorce  of  Josephine. — Marriage  with    Marie  Louise. — 

Birth  of  the  King  of  Rome  ....  221 

XVIII.  Trouble  with  the  Pope. — The  Conscription. — The  Til- 
sit Agreement  Broken        .....  229 

XIX.  Russian     Campaign. — Burning    of     Moscow. — A     New 

Army     ........  241 

XX.  Campaign  of  1813. — Campaign  of  1814. — Abdication  .        .  253 

XXI.  Elba. — The  Hundred  Days. — The  Second  Abdication    .  265 

XXII.  Surrender  to  English. — St.  Helena. — Death        .  .  279 

XXIII.  The  Second  Funeral    .  .  .  .  .295 


I.  Family. — Early  Surroundings. — Alexander  de  Beauhar- 

NAis. — Marriage. — Separation  from  Husband        .        .  325 

II.  Josephine    in    the    Revolution. — Imprisoned    at    Les 

Carmes. — Struggle    for    Existence. — Marriage    with 
Bonaparte  ......  334 

III.  Bonaparte  Goes  to  Italy. — Josephine  at  Milan  1796- 
1797. — Triumphal  Tour  in  Italy. — Bonaparte  Leaves 
FOR  Egypt  .......  346 

IV.  Bonaparte  is  Made  First  Consul. — ^Josephine's  Tact  in 

Public  Life. — Her  Personal  Charm. — Malmaison        .  360 

V.  The  Question  of  Succession. — Marriage  of  Hortense. — 
Josephine  Empress  of  the  French  People. — The  Coro- 
nation  .  .  .  .  .  .371 

VI.  Etiquette  Regulating  Josephine's   Life. — Royal  Jour- 
neys.— Extravagance  in  Dress        ....  386 

VII.  Josephine  not  Allowed  to  Go  to  Poland. — Fear  of  Di- 
vorce.— The  Reconciliation  of  1807-1808. — ^The  Cam- 
paign of  1809  AND  its  Effect  on  Napoleon  .  393 



VIII.  Napoleon    Returns   to    France. — ^Josephine's    Unhappi- 
NESS. — Napoleon's  View  of  a  Divorce. — The  Way  in 
Which  the  Divorce  was  Effected  .  .  .  .413 

IX.  After  the  Divorce. — Navarre. — ^Josephine's   Suspicions 

OF  THE  Emperor. — Her  Gradual  Return  to  Happiness  423 
X.  Effect  on  Josephine  of  Disasters  in  Russia. — Anxiety 
During   Campaign   of    1813. — Flight    from     Paris. — 
Death   in    1814  ......  440 

Handwriting  of  Napoleon  at  Different  Periods  .  .  453 

Table  of  the  Bonaparte  Family       ....  464 

Chronology  of  the  Life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte    .  .  469 

Index        .  .  .  .  .  •  .  .477 


The  chief  source  of  illustration  for  this  volume,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Napoleon  papers  in  McClure's  Magazine^  is 
the  great  collection  of  engravings  of  Mr.  Gardiner  G.  Hub- 
bard, which  has  been  generously  placed  at  the  service  of  the 
publishers.  In  order  to  make  the  illustration  still  more 
comprehensive,  a  representative  of  McClure's  Magazine 
and  an  authorized  agent  of  Mr.  Hubbard  visited  Paris,  to 
seek  there  whatever  it  might  be  desirable  to  have  in  the  way 
of  additional  pictures  which  w^ere  not  within  the  scope  of  Mr. 
Hubbard's  splendid  collection.  They  secured  the  assistance 
of  M.  Armand  Dayot,  Inspecteur  des  Beaux-Arts,  who  pos- 
sessed rare  qualifications  for  the  task.  His  official  position 
he  owed  to  his  familiarity  with  the  great  art  collections, 
both  public  and  private,  of  France,  and  his  official  duties 
made  him  especially  familiar  with  the  great  paintings  re- 
lating to  French  history.  Besides,  he  was  a  specialist  in 
Napoleonic  iconography.  On  account  of  his  qualifications 
and  special  knowledge,  he  had  been  selected  by  the  great 
house  of  Hachette  et  Cie,  to  edit  their  book  on  Napoleon 
raconte  par  I'Image,  which  was  the  first  attempt  to  bring 
together  in  one  volume  the  most  important  pictures  relating 
to  the  military,  political,  and  private  life  of  Napoleon.  M. 
Dayot  had  just  completed  this  task,  and  was  fresh  from  his 
studies  of  Napoleonic  pictures,  w^hen  his  aid  was  secured  by 
the  publishers  of  McClure^s  Magazine^  in  supplementing 
the  Hubbard  collection. 

The  work  was  prosecuted  with  the  one  aim  of  omitting 
no  important  picture.     When  great  paintings  indispensable 



to  a  complete  pictorial  life  of  Napoleon  were  found,  which 
had  never  been  either  etched  or  engraved,  photographs  were 
obtained,  many  of  these  photographs  being  made  especially 
for  our  use. 

A  generous  selection  of  pictures  was  made  from  the 
works  of  Raffet  and  Charlet.  M.  Dayot  was  able  also  to 
add  a  number  of  pictures — not  less  than  a  score — of  unique 
value,  through  his  personal  relations  with  the  owners  of  the 
great  private  Napoleonic  collections.  Thus  were  obtained 
hitherto  unpublished  pictures,  of  the  highest  value,  from 
the  collections  of  Monseigneur  Due  d'Aumale;  of  H.  I.  H., 
Prince  Victor  Napoleon ;  of  Prince  Roland ;  of  Baron  Lar- 
rey,  the  son  of  the  chief  surgeon  of  the  army  of  Napoleon ; 
of  the  Duke  of  Bassano,  son  of  the  minister  and  confidant 
of  the  emperor;  of  Monsieur  Edmond  Taigny,  the  friend 
and  biographer  of  Isabey ;  of  Monsieur  Albert  Christophle, 
Governor-General  of  the  Credit-Foncicr  of  France ;  of  Mon- 
sieur Paul  le  Roux,  who  has  perhaps  the  richest  of  the  Na- 
poleonic collections ;  and  of  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Gir- 
ardin,  son-in-law  of  the  Due  de  Gaete,  the  faithful  Minister 
of  Finance  of  Napoleon  I.  It  will  be  easily  understood  that 
no  doubt  can  be  raised  as  to  the  authenticity  of  documents 
borrowed  from  such  sources. 

The  following  letter  explains  fully  the  plan  on  which  Mr. 
Hubbard's  collection  is  arranged,  and  shows  as  well  its  ad- 
mirable completeness.  It  gives,  too,  a  classification  of  the 
pictures  into  periods,  which  will  be  useful  to  the  reader. 

Washington,  October,  1894. 
S.  S.  McClure,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir: — It  is  about  fourteen  years  since  I  became  interested  in 
engravings,  and  I  have  since  that  time  made  a  considerable  collection, 
including  many  portraits,  generally  painted  and  engraved  during  the 
life  of  the  personage.  I  have  from  two  hundred  to  three  hundrd  prints 
relating  to  Napoleon,  his  family,  and  his  generals.  The  earliest  of 
these  is  a  portrait  of  Napoleon  painted  in  1791,  when  he  was  twenty- 
two  years  old ;  the  next  in  date  was  engraved  m  1796.    There  are  many 



in  each  subsequent  year,  and  four  prints  of  drawings  made  immediately 
after  his  death. 

There  are  few  men  whose  characters  at  different  periods  of  life  are 
so  distinctly  marked  as  Napoleon's,  as  will  appear  by  an  examination 
of  these  prints.    There  are  four  of  these  periods:     First  Period.  1796- 

1797,  Napoleon  the  General;  Second  Period,  1801-1804,  Napoleon  the 
Statesman  and  Lawgiver;  Third  Period,  1804-1812,  Napoleon  the  Em- 
peror; Fourth  Period,  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  Napoleon,  including 
Waterloo  and  St.  Helena.  Most  of  these  prints  are  contemporaneous 
with  the  periods  described.  The  portraits  include  copies  of  the  por- 
traits painted  by  the  greatest  painters  and  engraved  by  the  best  en- 
gravers of  that  age.  There  are  four  engravings  of  the  paintings  by 
Meissonier — "  1807,"  "  Napoleon,"  **  Napoleon  Reconnoitering,"  and  . 
"  1814." 

First  Period,  1796-1797,  Napoleon  the  General. — In  these  the  Italian 
spelling  of  the  name,  "  Buonaparte,"  is  generally  adopted.  At  this 
period  there  were  many  French  and  other  artists  in  Italy,  and  it  would 
seem  as  if  all  were  desirous  of  painting  the  young  general.  A  French 
writer  in  a  late  number  of  the  *'  Gazette  des  Beaux-Arts  *'  is  uncertain 
whether  Gros,  Appiani,  or  Cossia  was  the  first  to  obtain  a  sitting  from 
General  Bonaparte.  It  does  not  matter  to  your  readers,  as  portraits  by 
each  of  these  artists  are  included  in  this  collection. 

There  must  have  been  other  portraits  or  busts  of  Bonaparte  executed 
before  1796,  besides  the  one  by  Greuze  given  in  this  collection.  These 
may  be  found,  but  there  are  no  others  in  my  collection.  Of  the  por- 
traits of  Napoleon  belonging  to  this  period  eight  were  engraved  before 

1798,  one  in  1800.  All  have  the  long  hair  falling  below  the  ears  over 
the  forehead  and  shoulders;  while  all  portraits  subsequent  to  Napoleon's 
expedition  to  Egypt  have  short  hair.  The  length  of  the  hair  affords 
an  indication  of  the  date  of  the  portrait. 

Second  Period,  1801-1804,  Napoleon  the  Statesman  and  Lawgiver. — 
During  this  period  many  English  artists  visited  Paris,  and  painted  or 
engraved  portraits  of  Napoleon.  In  these  the  Italian  spelling  "  Buona- 
parte "  is  adopted,  while  in  the  French  engravings  of  this  period  he  is 
called  **  Bonaparte "  or  "  General  Bonaparte."  Especially  noteworthy 
among  them  is  '*  The  Review  at  the  Tuileries,"  regarded  by  Masson 
as  the  best  likeness  of  Napoleon  '*  when  thirty  years  old  and  in  his 
best  estate."  The  portrait  painted  by  Gerard  in  1803,  and  engraved  by 
Richomme,  is  by  others  considered  the  best  of  this  period.  There  is 
already  a  marked  change  from  the  long  and  thin  face  in  earlier  por- 
traits to  the  round  and  full  face  of  this  period.  In  some  of  these  prints 
the  Code  Napoleon  is  introduced  as  an  accessory. 

Third  Period,  1804-1812,  Napoleon  the  Emperor. — He  is  now  styled 
';  Napoleon,"  "Napoleon  le  Grand"  or  "  L'Empereur."  His  chief 
painters  in  this  period  are  Lefevre,  Gerard,  Isabey,  Lupton,  and  David 


(with  Raphael-Morghen,  Longhi,  Desnoycrs,  engravers) — artists  of 
greater  merit  than  those  of  the  earlier  periods.  The  full-length  por- 
trait by  David  has  been  copied  oftener  and  is  better  known  than  any 

It  has  been  said  that  we  cannot  in  the  portraits  of  this  period,  exe- 
cuted by  Gerard,  Isabey.  and  David,  find  a  true  likeness  of  Napoleon. 
His  ministers  thought  **  it  was  necessary  that  the  sovereign  should  have 
a  serene  expression,  with  a  beauty  almost  more  than  human,  like  the 
deified  Caesars  or  the  gods  of  whom  they  were  the  image."  "  Advise 
the  painters/'  Napoleon  wrote  to  Duroc,  September  15,  1807,  "  to  make 
the  countenance  more  gracious  (plutot  gracieuses) ."  Again,  "Advise 
the  painters  to  seek  less  a  perfect  resemblance  than  to  give  the  beau 
ideal  in  preserving  certain  features  and  in  making  the  likeness  more 
agreeable  (plutot  agr cable)." 

Fourth  Period,  1812-1815,  Decline  and  Fall  of  Napoleon. — We  have 
probably  in  the  front  and  side  face  made  by  Girodet,  and  published 
in  England,  a  true  likeness  of  Napoleon.  It  was  drawn  by  Girodet  in 
the  Chapel  of  the  Tuileries,  March  8,  1812,  while  Napoleon  was  attend- 
ing mass.  It  is  believed  to  be  a  more  truthful  likeness  than  that  by 
David,  made  the  same  year;  the  change  in  his  appearance  to  greater 
fulness  than  in  the  portraits  of  1801-1804  is  here  more  plainly  marked. 
He  has  now  become  corpulent,  and  his  face  is  round  and  full.  Two 
portraits  taken  in  181 5  show  it  even  more  clearly.  One  of  these  was 
taken  immediately  before  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  and  the  other,  by 
J.  Eastlake,  immediately  after.  Mr.  Eastlake,  then  an  art  student,  was 
staying  at  Plymouth  when  the  '*  Bellerophon  "  put  in.  He  watched 
Napoleon  for  several  days,  taking  sketches  from  which  he  afterwards 
made  a  full  length  portrait. 

The  collection  concludes  with  three  notable  prints:  the  first  of  the 
mask  made  by  Dr.  Antommarchi  the  day  of  his  death,  and  engraved 
by  Calamatta  in  1834 ;  another  of  a  drawing  *'  made  immediately  after 
death  by  Captain  Ibbetson,  R.  N. ;"'  and  the  third  of  a  drawing  by  Cap- 
tain Crockatt.  made  fourteen  hours  after  the  death  of  Napoleon,  and 
published  in  London  July  18.  1821.  These  show  in  a  remarkable  man- 
ner the  head  of  this  wonderful  man. 

The  larger  part  of  these  prints  was  purchased  through  Messrs.  Wun- 
derlich  &  Co.,  and  Messrs.  Keppel  of  New  York,  some  at  auctions  in 
Berlin,  London,  Amsterdam,  and  Stuttgart;  very  few  in  Paris. 

Gardiner  G.  Hubbard. 

The  historical  and  critical  notes  which  accompany  the 
illustrations  in  this  volume  have  been  furnished  by  Mr.  Hub- 
bard as  a  rule,  though  those  signed  A.  D.  come  from  the  pen 
of  M.  Armand  Dayot. 


The  Life  of  Napoleon  in  this  volume  first  appeared  as  a 
serial  in  Volumes  III  and  IV  of  McClure's  Magazine.  In 
1895  on  its  completion  in  serial  form  it  was  published  in 
book  form,  illustrated  by  a  series  of  portraits  from  the  Hub- 
bard collection  which  had  been  used  in  the  magazine  and 
by  numerous  other  pictures  drawn  from  the  principal  French 
Napoleon  collections.  The  illustrations  in  the  present  edi- 
tion have  been  selected  from  those  used  in  the  first.  The 
variety  and  extent  of  these  illustrations  are  explained  in  the 
Preface  to  the  First  Edition  here  reproduced.  The  Life  of 
Napoleon  is  supplemented  in  the  present  work  by  a  sketch 
of  Josephine.  The  absence  of  any  Life  of  Josephine  in  Eng- 
lish drawn  from  recent  historical  investigations  is  the  rea- 
son for  presenting  this  sketch.  Until  within  a  very  few 
years  the  first  Empress  of  the  French  People  has  been  pic- 
tured to  the  world  as  her  grandson  Napoleon  III  desired 
that  she  appear — a  fitting  type  for  popular  adoration — more 
of  a  saint  and  a  martyr  than  of  a  woman.  The  present 
sketch  is  an  attempt  to  tell  a  true  story  of  her  life  as  it  is 
revealed  by  the  recent  diligent  researches  of  Frederic  Mas- 
son  and  by  the  numerous  memoirs  of  the  periods  which 
have  appeared,  many  of  them  since  the  passing  of  the  Second 
Empire.  If  the  story  as  told  here  is  frank,  it  is  hoped  by  the 
author  that  it  will  not  be  found  unsympathetic. 






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Life  of  Napoleon 



"  1  F  I  were  not  convinced  that  his  family  is  as  old  and  as 
I  good  as  my  own,"  said  the  Emperor  of  Austria  when 
he  married  Marie  Louise  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
"  I  would  not  give  him  my  daughter."  The  remark  is  suffi- 
cient recognition  of  the  nobility  of  the  father  of  Napoleon, 
Charles  Marie  de  Bonaparte,  a  gentleman  of  Ajaccio,  Cor- 
sica, whose  family,  of  Tuscan  origin,  had  settled  there  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  who,  in  1765,  had  married  a  young 
girl  of  the  island.  Laetitia  Ramolino. 

Monsieur  Bonaparte  gave  his  wife  a  noble  name,  but 
little  else.  He  was  an  indolent,  pleasure-loving,  chimerical 
man,  who  had  inherited  a  lawsuit,  and  whose  time  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  hopeless  task  of  recovering  an  estate  of  which 
the    Church    had    taken    possession.     Madame    Bonaparte 


brought  her  husband  no  great  name,  but  she  did  bring  him 
heahh,  beauty,  and  remarkable  qualities.  Tall  and  impos- 
ing. Mademoiselle  Laetitia  Ramolino  had  a  superb  carriage, 
which  she  never  lost,  and  a  face  which  attracted  attention 
particularly  by  the  accentuation  and  perfection  of  its  fea- 
tures. She  was  reserved,  but  of  ceaseless  energy  and  will, 
and  though  but  fifteen  when  married,  she  conducted  her 
family  affairs  with  such  good  sense  and  firmness  that  she 
was  able  to  bring  up  decently  the  eight  children  spared  her 
from  the  thirteen  she  bore.  The  habits  of  order  and  econ- 
omy formed  in  her  years  of  struggle  became  so  firmly  rooted 
in  her  character  that  later,  when  she  became  mater  regiim, 
the  **  Madame  Mere  "  of  an  imperial  court,  she  could  not 
put  them  aside,  but  saved  from  the  generous  income  at  her 
disposal,  **  for  those  of  my  children  who  are  not  yet  settled,'' 
she  said.  Throughout  her  life  she  showed  the  truth  of  her 
son's  characterization:  *\\  man's  head  on  a  woman's  body." 

The  first  years  after  their  marriage  were  stormy  ones  for 
the  Bonapartes.  The  Corsicans,  led  by  the  patriot  Pascal 
Paoli,  were  in  revolt  against  the  French,  at  that  time  mas- 
ters of  the  island.  Among  Paoli's  followers  was  Charles 
Bonaparte.  He  shared  the  fortunes  of  his  chief  to  the  end 
of  the  struggle  of  1769,  and  when,  finally,  Paoli  was  hope- 
lessly defeated,  took  to  the  mountains.  In  all  the  dangers 
and  miseries  of  this  war  tnd  flight,  Charles  Bonaparte  was 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  who,  vigorous  of  body  and  brave 
of  heart,  suffered  privations,  dangers,  and  fatigue  without 
complaint.  When  the  Corsicans  submitted,  the  Bonapartes 
went  back  to  Ajaccio.  Six  weeks  later  Madame  Bonaparte 
gave  birth  to  her  fourth  child.  Napoleon. 

**  I  was  born,"  said  Napoleon,  **  when  my  country  was 
perishing.  Thirty  thousand  Frenchmen  were  vomited  upon 
our  soil.  Cries  of  the  wounded,  sighs  of  the  oppressed, 
and  tears  of  despair  surrounded  my  cradle  at  my  birth." 


Young  Bonaparte  learned  to  hate  with  the  fierceness  pecu- 
liar to  Corsican  blood  the  idea  of  oppression,  to  revere  Paoli, 
and,  with  a  boy*s  contempt  of  necessity,  even  to  despise  his 
father's  submission.  It  was  not  strange.  His  mother  had 
little  time  for  her  children's  training.  His  father  gave  them 
no  attention ;  and  Napoleon,  "  obstinate  and  curious,''  dom- 
ineering over  his  brothers  and  companions,  fearing  no  one, 
ran  wild  on  the  beach  with  the  sailors  or  over  the  mountains 
with  the  herdsmen,  listening  to  their  tales  of  the  Corsican 
rebellion  and  of  fights,  on  sea  and  land,  imbibing  their  con- 
tempt for  submission,  their  love  for  liberty. 

At  nine  years  of  age  he  was  a  shy,  proud,  wilful  child, 
unkempt  and  untrained,  little,  pale,  and  nervous,  almost 
without  instruction,  and  yet  already  enamored  of  a  soldier's 
life  and  conscious  of  a  certain  superiority  over  his  comrades. 
Then  it  was  that  he  was  suddenly  transplanted  from  his  free 
life  to  an  environment  foreign  in  its  language,  artificial  in 
its  etiquette,  and  severe  in  its  regulations. 

It  was  as  a  dependent,  a  species  of  charity  pupil,  that  he 
went  into  this  new  atmosphere.  Charles  Bonaparte  had  be- 
come, in  the  nine  years  since  he  had  abandoned  the  cause  of 
Paoli,  a  thorough  parasite.  Like  all  the  poor  nobility  of  the 
country  to  which  he  had  attached  himself,  and  even  like 
many  of  the  rich  in  that  day,  he  begged  favors  of  every  de- 
scription from  the  government  in  return  for  his  support. 
To  aid  in  securing  them,  he  humbled  himself  before  the 
French  Governor-General  of  Corsica,  the  Count  de  Mar- 
boeuf,  and  made  frequent  trips,  which  he  could  ill  afford, 
back  and  forth  to  Versailles.  The  free  education  of  his 
children,  a  good  office  with  its  salary  and  honors,  the  main- 
tenance of  his  claims  against  the  Jesuits,  were  among  the 
favors  which  he  sought. 

By  dint  of  solicitation  he  had  secured  a  place  among  the 
free  pupils  of  the  college  at  Autun  for  his  son  Joseph,  the 


oldest  of  the  family,  and  one  for  Napoleon  at  the  military 
school  at  Brienne. 

To  enter  the  school  at  Brienne,  it  was  necessary  to  be  able 
to  read  and  write  French,  and  to  pass  a  preliminary  exam- 
ination in  that  language.  This  young  Napoleon  could  not 
do;  indeed,  he  could  scarcely  have  done  as  much  in  his 
native  Italian.  A  preparatory  school  was  necessary,  then, 
for  a  time.  The  place  settled  on  was  Autun,  where  Joseph 
was  to  enter  college,  and  there  in  January,  1779,  Charles 
Bonaparte  arrived  with  the  two  boys. 

Napoleon  was  nine  and  a  half  years  old  when  he  entered 
the  school  at  Autun.  He  remained  three  months,  and  in 
that  time  made  sufficient  progress  to  fulfil  the  requirements 
at  Brienne.  The  principal  record  of  the  boy's  conduct  at 
Autun  comes  from  Abbe  Chardon,  who  was  at  the  head  of 
the  primary  department.     He  says  of  his  pupil : 

"  Napoleon  brought  to  Autun  a  sombre,  thoughtful  character.  He 
was  interested  in  no  one.  and  found  his  amusements  by  himself.  He 
rarely  had  a  companion  in  his  walks.  He  was  quick  to  learn,  and 
quick  of  apprehension  in  all  ways.  When  I  gave  him  a  lesson,  he  fixed 
his  eyes  upon  me  with  parted  lips;  but  if  I  recapitulated  anything 
I  had  said,  his  interest  was  gone,  as  he  plainly  showed  by  his  manner. 
When  reproved  for  this,  he  would  answer  coldly.  I  might  almost  say 
with  an  imperious  air,  *  I  know  it  already,  sir.* " 

When  he  went  to  Brienne,  Napoleon  left  his  brother  Jo- 
seph behind  at  Autun.  The  boy  had  not  now  one  familiar 
feature  in  his  life.  The  school  at  Brienne  was  made  up  of 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  pupils,  half  of  whom  were 
supported  by  the  government.  They  were  sons  of  nobles, 
who,  generally,  had  little  but  their  great  names,  and  whose 
rule  for  getting  on  in  the  world  was  the  rule  of  the  old 
regime — secure  a  powerful  patron,  and,  by  flattery  and  ser- 
vile attentions,  continue  in  his  train.  Young  Bonaparte 
heard  little  but  boasting,  and  saw  little  but  vanity.  His  first 
lessons  in  French  society  were  the  doubtful  ones  of  the  para- 


site  and  courtier.  The  motto  which  he  saw  everywhere 
practised  was,  **  The  end  justifies  the  means/'  His  teach- 
ers were  not  strong  enough  men  to  counteract  this  influence. 
The  military  schools  of  France  were  at  this  time  in  the 
hands  of  religious  orders,  and  the  Minim  Brothers,  who  had 
charge  of  Brienne,  were  principally  celebrated  for  their 
ignorance.  They  certainly  could  not  change  the  arrogant 
and  false  notions  of  their  aristocratic  young  pupils. 

It  was  a  dangerous  experiment  to  place  in  such  surround- 
ings a  boy  like  the  young  Napoleon,  proud  ambitious,  jeal- 
ous; lacking  any  healthful  moral  training;  possessing  an 
Italian  indifference  to  truth  and  the  rights  of  others;  already 
conscious  that  he  had  his  own  way  to  make  in  the  world, 
and  inspired  by  a  determination  to  do  it. 

From  the  first  the  atmosphere  at  Brienne  was  hateful  to 
the  boy.  His  comrades  were  French,  and  it  was  the  French 
who  had  subdued  Corsica.  They  taunted  him  with  it  some- 
times, and  he  told  them  that  had  there  been  but  four  to  one, 
Corsica  would  never  have  been  conquered,  but  that  the 
French  came  ten  to  one.  When  they  said :  **  But  your  fa- 
ther submitted,"  he  said  bitterly :  "  I  shall  never  forgive 
him  for  it."  As  for  Paoli,  he  told  them,  proudly,  "  He  is  a 
good  man.     I  wish  I  could  be  like  him." 

He  had  trouble  with  the  new  language.  They  jeered  at 
him  because  of  it.  His  name  was  strange;  la  paille  au  nez 
was  the  nickname  they  made  from  Napoleon. 

He  was  poor ;  they  were  rich.  The  contemptuous  treat- 
ment he  received  because  of  his  poverty  was  such  that  he 
begged  to  be  taken  home. 

"  My  father  [he  wrote],  if  you  or  my  protectors  cannot  give  me  the 
means  of  sustaining  myself  more  honorably  in  the  house  where  I  am, 
please  let  me  return  home  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  tired  of  poverty 
and  of  the  jeers  of  insolent  scholars  who  are  superior  to  me  only  in 
their  fortune,  for  there  is  not  one  among  them  who  feels  one  hundredth 
part  of  the  noble  sentiment  which  animates  me.     Must  your  son.  sir, 


continually  be  the  butt  of  these  boobies,  who,  vain  of  the  luxuries  which 

they  enjoy,  insult  me  by  their  laughter  at  the  privations  which  I  am 

forced  to  endure?    No,  father,  no!    If  fortune  refuses  to  smile  upon 

me,  take  me  from   Brienne,  and  make  me,   if  you   will,   a  mechanic. 

From   these   words  you   may   judge  of  my   despair.    This   letter,   sir, 

please  believe,  is  not  dictated  by  a  vain  desire  to  enjoy  extravagant 

amusements.     I  have  no  such  wish.     I  feel  simply  that  it  is  necessary 

to  show  my  companions  that  I  can  procure  them  as  well  as  they,  if  I 

wish  to  do  so. 

"  Your  respectful  and  affectionate  son. 

"  Bonaparte." 

Charles  Bonaparte,  always  in  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  his 
inheritance,  could  not  help  his  son.  Napoleon  made  other 
attempts  to  escape,  even  offering  himself,  it  is  said,  to  the 
British  Admiralty  as  a  sailor,  and  once,  at  least,  begging 
Monsieur  de  Marboeuf,  the  Governor-General  of  Corsica, 
who  had  aided  Charles  Bonaparte  in  securing  places  for  both 
l)oys,  to  withdraw  his  protection.  The  incident  w'hich  led 
to  this  was  characteristic  of  the  school.  The  supercilious 
young  nobles  taunted  him  with  his  father's  position ;  it  was 
nothing  but  that  of  a  poor  tipstaff,  they  said.  Young  Bona- 
parte, stung  by  what  he  thought  an  insult,  attacked  his  tor- 
mentors, and,  being  caught  in  the  act,  was  shut  up.  He  im- 
mediately wrote  to  the  Count  de  Marboeuf  a  letter  of  re- 
markable qualities  in  so  young  a  boy  and  in  such  circum- 
stances.    After  explaining  the  incident  he  said : 

"  Now,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  if  I  am  guilty,  if  my  liberty  has  been 
taken  from  me  justly,  have  the  goodness  to  add  to  the  kindnesses  which 
you  have  shown  me  one  thing  more — take  me  from  Brienne  and  with- 
draw your  protection :  it  would  be  robbery  on  my  part  to  keep  it  any 
longer  from  one  who  deserves  it  more  than  I  do.  I  shall  never,  sir,  be 
worthier  of  it  than  I  am  now.  I  shall  never  cure  myself  of  an  im- 
petuosity which  is  all  the  more  dangerous  because  I  believe  its  mo- 
tive is  sacred.  Whatever  idea  of  self-interest  influences  me,  I  shall 
never  have  control  enough  to  see  my  father,  an  honorable  man,  dragged 
in  the  mud.  I  shall  always,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  feel  too  deeply  in 
these  circumstances  to  limit  myself  to  complaining  to  my  superior.  I 
shall  always  feel  that  a  good  son  ought  not  to  allow  another  to  avenge 
such  an  outrage.     As  for  the  benefits  which  you  have  rained  upon  me. 


they  will  never  be  forgotten.  I  shall  say  I  had  gained  an  honorable 
protection,  but  Heaven  denied  me  the  virtues  which  were  necessary  in 
order  to  profit  by  it." 

In  the  end  Napoleon  saw  that  there  was  no  way  for  him 
but  to  remain  at  Brienne,  galled  by  poverty  and  formalism. 

It  would  be  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  there  was  no 
relief  to  this  sombre  life.  The  boy  won  recognition  more 
than  once  from  his  companions  by  his  bravery  and  skill  in 
defending  his  rights.  He  was  not  only  valorous;  he  was 
generous,  and,  "  preferred  going  to  prison  himself  to  de- 
nouncing his  comrades  who  had  done  wrong.*'  Young  Na- 
poleon found,  soon,  that  if  there  were  things  for  which  he 
was  ridiculed,  there  were  others  for  which  he  was  ap- 

He  made  friends,  particularly  among  his  teachers;  and 
to  one  of  his  comrades,  Bourrienne,  he  remained  attached 
for  years.  "  You  never  laugh  at  me;  you  like  me/'  he  said 
to  his  friend.  Those  who  found  him  morose  and  surly,  did 
not  realize  that  beneath  the  reserved,  sullen  exterior  of  the 
little  Corsican  boy  there  was  a  proud  and  passionate  heart 
aching  for  love  and  recognition;  that  it  was  sensitiveness 
rather  than  arrogance  which  drove  him  away  from  his 

At  the  end  of  five  and  one-half  years  Napoleon  was  pro- 
moted to  the  military  school  at  Paris.  The  choice  of  pupils 
for  this  school  was  made  by  an  inspector,  at  this  time  one 
Chevalier  de  Keralio,  an  amiable  old  man,  who  was  fond  of 
mingling  with  the  boys  as  well  as  examining  them.  He  was 
particularly  pleased  with  Napoleon,  and  named  him  for  pro- 
motion in  spite  of  his  being  strong  in  nothing  but  mathemat- 
ics, and  not  yet  being  of  the  age  required  by  the  regulations. 
The  teachers  protested,  but  De  Keralio  insisted. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  doing,''  he  said.  '*  If  I  put  the  rules 
aside  in  this  case,  it  is  not  to  do  his  family  a  favor — I  do 


not  know  them.  It  is  because  of  the  child  himself.  I  have 
seen  a  spark  here  which  cannot  be  too  carefully  cultivated." 
De  Keralio  died  before  the  nominations  were  made,  but 
his  wishes  in  regard  to  young  Bonaparte  were  carried  out. 
The  recommendation  which  sent  him  up  is  curious.  The 
notes  read : 


Monsieur  de  Bonaparte;  height  four  feet,  ten  inches  and  ten  lines; 
he  has  passed  his  fourth  examination ;  good  constitution,  excellent 
heahh ;  submissive  character,  frank  and  grateful ;  regular  in  conduct ; 
has  distinguished  himself  by  his  application  to  mathematics ;  is  passa- 
bly well  up  in  history  and  geography ;  is  behindhand  in  his  Latin. 
Will  make  an  excellent  sailor.  Deserves  to  be  sent  to  the  school  ia 



IT  was  in  October,  1784,  that  Napoleon  was  placed  in  the 
Ecole  Militaire  at  Paris,  the  same  school  which  still 
faces  the  Champ  de  Mars.  He  was  fifteen  years  old 
at  the  time,  a  thin-faced,  awkward,  countrified  boy,  who 
stared  open-mouthed  at  the  Paris  street  sights  and  seemed 
singularly  out  of  place  to  those  who  saw  him  in  the  capital 
for  the  first  time. 

Napoleon  found  his  new  associates  even  more  distasteful 
than  those  at  Brienne  had  been.  The  pupils  of  the  Ecole 
Militaire  were  sons  of  soldiers  and  provincial  gentlemen, 
educated  gratuitously,  and  rich  young  men  who  paid  for 
their  privileges.  The  practices  of  the  school  were  luxuri- 
ous. There  was  a  large  staff  of  servants,  costly  stables, 
several  courses  at  meals.  Those  who  were  rich  spent  freely ; 
most  of  those  who  were  poor  ran  in  debt.  Napoleon  could 
not  pay  his  share  in  the  lunches  and  gifts  which  his  mates 
offered  now  and  then  to  teachers  and  fellows.  He  saw  his 
sister  Eliza,  who  was  at  Madame  de  Maintenon's  school  at 
St.  Cyr,  weep  one  day  for  the  same  reason.  He  would  not 
borrow.  "  My  mother  has  already  too  many  expenses,  and 
I  have  no  business  to  increase  them  by  extravagances  which 
are  simply  imposed  upon  me  by  the  stupid  folly  of  my  com- 
rades." But  he  did  complain  loudly  to  his  friends.  The 
Permons,  a  Corsican  family  living  on  the  Quai  Conti,  who 
made  Napoleon  thoroughly  at  home,  even  holding  a  room 



at  his  disposal,  frequently  discussed  these  complaints.  Was 
it  vanity  and  envy,  or  a  wounded  pride  and  just  indigna- 
tion? The  latter,  said  Monsieur  Permon.  This  feeling 
was  so  profound  with  Napoleon,  that,  with  his  natural  in- 
stinct for  regulating  whatever  was  displeasing  to  him,  he 
prepared  a  memorial  to  the  government,  full  of  good,  prac- 
tical sense,  on  the  useless  luxury  of  the  pupils. 

A  year  in  Paris  finished  Napoleon's  military  education, 
and  in  October,  1785,  when  sixteen  years  old,  he  received 
his  appointment  as  second  lieutenant  of  the  artillery  in  a 
regiment  stationed  at  Valence.  Out  of  the  fifty-eight  pupils 
entitled  that  year  to  the  promotion  of  second  lieutenant,  but 
six  went  to  the  artillery;  of  these  six  Napoleon  was  one. 
His  examiner  said  of  him : 

'*  Reserved  and  studious,  he  prefers  study  to  any  amusement,  and 
enjoys  reading  the  best  authors;  applies  himself  earnestly  to  the  ab- 
stract sciences;  cares  little  for  anything  else.  He  is  silent  and  loves 
solitude.  He  is  capricious,  haughty,  and  excessively  egotistical ;  talks 
little,  but  is  quick  and  energetic  in  his  replies,  prompt  and  severe  in 
his  repartees;  has  great  pride  and  ambitions,  aspiring  to  anything.  The 
young  man  is  worthy  of  patronage." 

He  left  Paris  at  once,  on  money  lx)rrowed  from  a  cloth 
merchant  whom  his  father  had  patronized,  not  sorry,  prob- 
ably, that  his  school-days  were  over,  though  it  is  certain 
that  all  of  those  who  had  been  friendly  to  him  in  this  period 
he  never  forgot  in  the  future.  Several  of  his  old  teachers 
at  Brienne  received  pensions;  one  was  made  rector  of  the 
School  of  Fine  Arts  established  at  Compiegne,  another 
librarian  at  Malmaison,  where  the  porter  was  the  former 
porter  at  Brienne.  The  professors  of  the  Ecole  Militaire 
were  equally  well  taken  care  of,  as  well  as  many  of  his 
schoolmates.  During  the  Consulate,  learning  that  Madame 
de  Montesson,  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  was  still  living, 
he  sent  for  her  to  come  to  the  Tuileries,  and  asked  what  he 


could  do  for  her.  ''  But,  General/'  protested  Madame  de 
Montesson,  **  I  have  no  claim  upon  you." 

"  You  do  not  know,  then,''  replied  the  First  Consul, 
"  that  I  received  my  first  crown  from  you.  You  went  to 
Brienne  with  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  distribute  the  prizes, 
and  in  placing  a  laurel  wreath  on  my  head,  you  said :  '  May 
it  bring  you  happiness.'  They  say  I  am  a  fatalist,  Madame, 
so  it  is  quite  plain  that  I  could  not  forget  what  you  no  longer 
remember ;  "  and  the  First  Consul  caused  the  sixty  thousand 
francs  of  yearly  income  left  Madame  de  Montesson  by  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  but  confiscated  in  the  Revolution,  to  be 
returned.  Later,  at  her  request,  he  raised  one  of  her  rela- 
tives to  the  rank  of  senator.  In  1805,  when  emperor.  Na- 
poleon gave  a  life  pension  of  six  thousand  francs  to  the  son 
of  his  former  protector,  the  Count  de  Marbceuf,  and  with  it 
went  his  assurance  of  interest  and  good  will  in  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  young  man's  life.  Generous,  forbearing, 
even  tender  remembrance  of  all  who  had  been  associated 
with  him  in  his  early  years,  was  one  of  Napoleon's  marked 

His  new  position  at  Valence  was  not  brilliant.  He  had 
an  annual  income  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  dollars, 
and  there  was  much  hard  work.  It  was  independence,  how- 
ever, and  life  opened  gayly  to  the  young  officer.  He  made 
many  acquaintances,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  something 
of  society  and  women.  Madame  Colombier,  whose  salon 
was  the  leading  one  of  the  town,  received  him,  introduced 
him  to  powerful  friends,  and,  indeed,  prophesied  a  great 
future  for  him. 

The  sixteen-year-old  officer,  in  spite  of  his  shabby  clothes 
and  big  boots,  became  a  favorite.  He  talked  brilliantly 
and  freely,  began  to  find  that  he  could  please,  and,  for  the 
first  time,  made  love  a  little — to  Mademoiselle  Colombier — 
a  frolicking  boy-and-girl  love,  the  object  of  whose  stolen 


rendezvous  was  to  eat  cherries  together.  Mademoiselle 
Mion-Desplaces,  a  pretty  Corsican  girl  in  Valence,  also  re- 
ceived some  attention  from  him.  Encouraged  by  his  good 
beginning,  and  ambitious  for  future  success,  he  even  began 
to  take  dancing  lessons. 

Had  there  been  no  one  but  himself  to  think  of,  everything 
would  have  gone  easily,  but  the  care  of  his  family  was  upon 
him.  His  father  had  died  a  few  months  before,  February, 
1785,  and  left  his  affairs  in  a  sad  tangle.  Joseph,  now 
nearly  eighteen  years  of  age,  w^ho  had  gone  to  Autun  in 
1779  with  Napoleon,  had  remained  there  until  1785.  The 
intention  was  to  make  him  a  priest;  suddenly  he  declared 
that  he  would  not  be  anything  but  a  soldier.  It  was  to 
undo  all  that  had  been  done  for  him;  but  his  father  made 
an  effort  to  get  him  into  a  military  school.  Before  the  ar- 
rangements were  complete  Charles  Bonaparte  died,  and 
Joseph  was  obliged  to  return  to  Corsica,  where  he  was  pow- 
erless to  do  anything  for  his  mother  and  for  the  four  young 
children  at  home :  Louis,  aged  nine ;  Pauline,  seven ;  Caro- 
line, five;   Jerome,  three. 

Lucien,  now  nearly  eleven  years  old,  was  at  Brienne,  re- 
fusing to  become  a  soldier,  as  his  family  desired,  and  giving 
his  time  to  literature ;  but  he  was  not  a  free  pupil,  and  the 
six  hundred  francs  a  year  needful  for  him  was  a  heavy  tax. 
Eliza  alone  was  provided  for.  She  had  entered  St.  Cyr  in 
1784  as  one  of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  pupils  supported 
there  by  his  Majesty,  and  to  be  a  demoiselle  de  St,  Cyr  was 
to  be  fed,  taught,  and  clothed  from  seven  to  twenty,  and, 
on  leaving,  to  receive  a  dowry  of  three  thousand  francs,  a 
trousseau,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  francs  for  travelling 
expenses  home. 

Napoleon  regarded  his  family's  situation  more  seriously 
than  did  his  brothers.  Indeed,  when  at  Brienne  he  had 
shown  an  interest,  a  sense  of  responsibility,  and  a  good 


judgment  about  the  future  of  his  brothers  and  sisters,  quite 
amazing  in  so  young  a  boy.  When  he  was  fifteen  years 
old,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  which,  for  its  keen  analy- 
sis, would  do  credit  to  the  father  of  a  family.  The  subject 
was  his  brother  Joseph's  desire  to  abandon  the  Church  and 
go  into  the  king's  service.  Napoleon  is  summing  up  the 
pros  and  cons: 

"  First.  As  father  says,  he  has  not  the  courage  to  face  the  perils 
of  an  action;  his  health  is  feeble,  and  will  not  allow  him  to  support 
the  fatigues  of  a  campaign ;  and  my  brother  looks  on  the  military  pro- 
fession only  from  a  garrison  point  of  view.  He  would  make  a  good 
garrison  officer.  He  is  well  made,  light-minded,  knows  how  to  pay 
compliments,  and  with  these  talents  he  will  always  get  on  well  in 

Second.  He  has  received  an  ecclesiastical  education,  and  it  is  very 
late  to  undo  that.  Monscignor  the  Bishop  of  Autun  would  have  given 
him  a  fat  living,  and  he  would  have  been  sure  to  become  a  bishop. 
What  an  advantage  for  the  family!  Monseignor  of  Autun  has  done 
all  he  could  to  encourage  him  to  persevere,  promising  that  he  should 
never  repent.  Should  he  persist,  in  wishing  to  be  a  soldier.  I  must 
praise  him,  provided  he  has  a  decided  taste  for  his  profession,  the  fin- 
est of  all,  and  the  great  motive  power  of  human  affairs.  .  .  .  He 
wishes  to  be  a  military  man.  That  is  all  very  well;  but  in  what  corps? 
Is  it  the  marine?  First:  He  knows  nothing  of  mathematics;  it  would 
take  him  two  years  to  learn.  Second:  His  health  is  incompatible  with 
the  .*;ea.  Is  it  the  engineers?  He  would  require  four  or  five  years  to 
learn  what  is  necessar>',  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  would  be 
only  a  cadet.  Besides,  working  all  day  long  would  n(U  suit  him.  The 
same  reasons  which  apply  to  the  engineers  apply  to  the  artillery,  with 
this  exception;  that  he  would  have  to  work  eighteen  month':  to  be- 
come a  cadet,  and  eighteen  months  more  to  become  an  officer.  .  .  . 
No  doubt  he  wishes  to  join  the  infantry.  .  .  .  And  what  is  the 
slender  infantry  officer?  Three-fourths  of  the  time  a  scapegrace. 
.  .  .  .  A  last  effort  will  be  made  to  persuade  him  to  enter  the 
Church,  in  default  of  which,  father  will  take  him  to  Corsica,  where  he 
will  be  under  his  eye." 

It  was  not  strange  that  Charles  Bonaparte  considered  the 
advice  of  a  son  who  could  write  so  clear-headed  a  letter  as 
the  one  just  quoted,  or  that  the  boy's  uncle  Lucien  said, 


before  dying :  *'  Remember,  that  if  Joseph  is  the  older,  Na- 
poleon is  the  real  head  of  the  house." 

Now  that  young  Bonaparte  was  in  an  independent  posi- 
tion, he  felt  still  more  keenly  his  responsibility,  and  it  was 
for  this  reason,  as  w^ell  as  because  of  ill-health,  that  he  left 
his  regiment  in  February,  1787,  on  a  leave  which  he  ex- 
tended to  nearly  fifteen  months,  and  which  he  spent  in  ener- 
getic efforts  to  better  his  family's  situation,  working  to  re- 
establish salt  works  and  a  mulberry  plantation  in  w^hich  they 
were  concerned,  to  secure  the  nomination  of  Lucien  to  the 
college  at  Aix,  and  to  place  Louis  at  a  French  military  school. 

When  he  went  back  to  his  regiment,  now  stationed  at 
Auxonne,  he  denied  himself  to  send  money  home,  and  spent 
his  leisure  in  desperate  work,  sleeping  but  six  hours,  eating 
but  one  meal  a  day,  dressing  once  in  the  week.  Like  all  the 
young  men  of  the  country  who  had  been  animated  by  the 
philosophers  and  encyclopedists,  he  had  attempted  literature, 
and  at  this  moment  w^as  finishing  a  history  of  Corsica,  a 
portion  of  which  he  had  written  at  Valence  and  submitted 
to  the  Abbe  Raynal,  who  had  encouraged  him  to  go  on. 
The  manuscript  was  completed  and  ready  for  publication  in 
1788,  and  the  author  made  heroic  efforts  to  find  some  one 
who  would  accept  a  dedication,  as  well  as  some  one  who 
would  publish  it.  Before  he  had  succeeded,  events  had 
crowded  the  work  out  of  sight,  and  other  ambitions  occu- 
pied his  forces.  Napoleon  had  many  literary  projects  on 
hand  at  this  time.  He  had  been  a  prodigious  reader,  and 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  could  save  a  few  cents  with 
which  to  buy  second-hand  books.  From  everything  he  read 
he  made  long  extracts,  and  kept  a  book  of  *'  thoughts.** 
Most  curious  are  some  of  these  fragments,  reflections  on  the 
beginning  of  society,  on  love,  on  nature.  They  show  that 
he  was  passionately  absorbed  in  forming  ideas  on  the  great 
questions  of  life  and  its  relations. 


Besides  his  history  of  Corsica,  he  had  already  written 
several  fragments,  among  them  an  historical  drama  called 
the  "  Count  of  Essex,"  and  a  story,  the  "  Masque  Proph- 
ete."  He  undertook,  tot),  to  write  a  sentimental  journey 
in  the  style  of  Sterne,  describing  a  trip  from  Valence  to 
Mont-Cenis.  Later  he  competed  for  a  prize  offered  by  the 
Academy  of  Lyons  on  the  subject :  '*  To  determine  what 
truths  and  feehngs  should  be  inculcated  in  men  for  their  hap- 
piness." He  failed  in  the  contest;  indeed,  the  essay  was 
severely  criticised  for  its  incoherency  and  poor  style. 

The  Revolution  of  1789  turned  Napoleon's  mind  to  an 
ambition  greater  than  that  of  writing  the  history  of  Corsica 
— he  would  free  Corsica.  The  National  Assembly  had  lifted 
the  island  from  its  inferior  relation  and  made  it  a  depart- 
ment of  France,  but  sentiment  was  much  divided,  and  the 
ferment  was  similar  to  that  which  agitated  the  mainland. 
Napoleon,  deei)ly  interested  in  the  progress  of  the  new  liberal 
ideas,  and  seeing,  too,  the  op])ortunity  for  a  soldier  and  an 
agitator  among  his  countrymen,  hastened  home,  where  he 
spent  some  twenty-five  months  out  of  the  next  two  and  a 
half  years.  That  the  young  officer  spent  five-sixths  of  his 
time  in  Corsica,  instead  of  in  service,  and  that  he  in  more 
than  one  instance  pleaded  reasons  for  leaves  of  absence 
which  one  would  have  to  be  exceedingly  unso])histicated 
not  to  see  were  trumped  uj)  for  the  occasion,  cannot  be  at- 
tributed merely  to  duplicity  of  character  and  contempt  for 
authority.  He  was  doing  only  what  he  had  learned  to  do  at 
the  militarv  schools  of  Brienne  and  Paris,  and  what  he  saw 
practised  about  him  in  the  army.  Indeed,  the  whole  French 
army  at  that  period  made  a  business  of  shirking  duty.  Every 
minister  of  war  in  the  period  complains  of  the  incessant  de- 
sertions among  the  common  soldiers.  Among  the  officers  it 
was  no  better.  True,  they  did  not  desert:  they  held  their 
places  and — did  nothing.     **  Those  who  were  rich  and  well 


born  had  no  need  to  work/'  says  the  Marshal  Due  de  Bro- 
glie.  **  They  were  promoted  by  favoritism.  Those  who  were 
poor  and  from  the  provinces  had  no  need  to  work  either.  It 
did  them  no  good  if  they  did,  for,  not  having  patronage, 
thev  could  not  advance."  The  Comte  de  Saint-Germain 
said  in  regard  to  the  officers :  **  There  is  not  one  who  is  in 
active  service :  they  one  and  all  amuse  themselves  and  look 
out  for  their  own  affairs." 

Napoleon,  tormented  by  the  desire  to  help  his  family, 
goaded  by  his  ambition  and  by  an  imperative  intern  need  of 
action  and  achievement,  still  divided  in  his  allegiance  be- 
tween France  and  Corsica,  could  not  have  been  expected,  in 
his  environment,  to  take  nothing  more  than  the  leaves  al- 
lowed by  law\ 

Revolutionary  agitation  did  not  absorb  all  the  time  he  w^as 
in  Corsica.  Never  did  he  work  harder  for  his  family.  The 
portion  of  this  two  and  a  half  years  which  he  spent  in 
France,  he  was  accompanied  by  Louis,  whose  tutor  he  had 
become,  and  he  suflfered  every  deprivation  to  help  him.  Na- 
poleon's income  at  that  time  was  sixty-five  cents  a  day.  This 
meant  that  he  must  live  in  wretched  rooms,  prepare  himself 
the  broth  on  which  he  and  his  brother  dined,  never  go  to  a 
cafe,  brush  his  own  clothes,  give  Louis  lessons.  He  did  it 
bravely.  **  I  breakfasted  off  dry  bread,  but  I  bolted  my 
door  on  my  poverty,"  he  said  once  to  a  young  officer  com- 
plaining of  the  economies  he  must  make  on  two  hundred 
dollars  a  month. 

Economy  and  privation  were  always  more  supportable  to 
him  than  borrowing.  He  detested  irregularities  in  finan- 
cial matters.  **  Your  finances  are  deplorably  conducted,  ap- 
parently on  metaphysical  principles.  Believe  me,  money  is  a 
very  physical  thing,"  he  once  said  to  Joseph,  when  the  latter, 
as  King  of  Naples,  could  not  make  both  ends  meet.  He  put 
Jerome  to  sea  largely  to  stop  his  reckless  expenditures.   (At 


fifteen  that  young  man  paid  three  thousand  two  hundred 
dollars  for  a  shaving  case  **  containing  everything  except 
the  be^rd  to  enable  its  owner  to  use  it/')  Some  of  the  most 
furious  scenes  which  occurred  between  Napoleon  and  Jo- 
sephine were  because  she  was  continually  in  debt.  After  the 
divorce  he  frequently  cautioned  her  to  be  w^atchful  of  her 
money.  **  Think  what  a  bad  opinion  I  should  have  of  you 
if  I  knew  you  were  in  debt  with  an  income  of  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year,"  he  wrote  her  in  18 13. 

The  methodical  habits  of  Marie  Louise  were  a  constant 
satisfaction  to  Napoleon.  "  She  settles  all  her  accounts  once 
a  week,  deprives  herself  of  new  gowns  if  necessary,  and  im- 
poses privations  upon  herself  in  order  to  keep  out  of  debt," 
he  said  proudly.  A  bill  of  sixty-two  francs  and  thirty-two 
centimes  was  once  sent  to  him  for  window  blinds  placed  in 
the  salon  of  the  Princess  Borghese.  "  As  I  did  not  order 
this  expenditure,  which  ought  not  to  be  charged  to  my  bud- 
get, the  princess  will  pay  it,"  he  wrote  on  the  margin. 

It  was  not  parsimony.  It  was  the  man's  sense  of  order. 
No  one  was  more  generous  in  gifts,  pensions,  salaries ;  but 
it  irritated  him  to  see  money  wasted  or  managed  carelessly. 

Through  his  long  absence  in  Corsica,  and  the  complaints 
which  the  conservatives  of  the  island  had  made  to  the  French 
government  of  the  way  he  had  handled  his  battalion  of  Na- 
tional Guards  in  a  riot  at  Ajaccio,  Napoleon  lost  his  place  in 
the  French  army.  He  came  to  Paris  in  the  spring  of  1792, 
hoping  to  regain  it.  But  in  the  confused  condition  of  public 
affairs  little  attention  was  given  to  such  cases,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  wait. 

Almost  penniless,  he  dined  on  six-cent  dishes  in  cheap 
restaurants,  pawned  his  watch,  and  with  Bourrienne  devised 
schemes  for  making  a  fortune.  One  was  to  rent  some  new 
houses  going  up  in  the  city  and  to  sub-let  them.  While  he 
waited  he  saw  the  famous  davs  of  the  **  Second  Revolution  *' 


— the  20th  of  June,  when  the  mob  surrounded  the  Tuileries, 
overran  the  palace,  put  the  bonnet  rouge  on  Louis  XVL*s 
head,  did  everything  but  strike,  as  the  agitators  had  in- 
tended. Napoleon  and  Bourrienne.  loitering  on  the  out- 
skirts, saw  the  outrages,  and  he  said,  in  disgust : 

**  Che  coglione,  why  did  they  allow  these  1)rutes  to  come 
in?  They  ought  to  have  shot  down  five  or  six  hundred  of 
them  with  cannon,  and  the  rest  would  soon  have  run/' 

He  saw  the  loth  of  August,  when  the  king  was  deposed. 
He  was  still  in  Paris  when  the  horrible  September  massacres 
began — those  massacres  in  which,  to  *'  save  the  country,*' 
the  fanatical  and  terrified  populace  resolved  to  put  **  rivers 
of  blood  "  between  Paris  and  the  emigres.  All  these  ex- 
cesses filled  him  with  disgust.  He  began  to  understand 
that  the  Revolution  he  admired  so  much  needed  a  head. 

In  August  Xa])oleon  was  restored  to  the  army.  The  fol- 
lowing June  found  him  with  his  regiment  in  the  south  of 
France.  In  the  interval  si)ent  in  Corsica,  he  had  abandoned 
Paoli  and  the  cause  of  Corsican  indei)endence.  His  old 
hero  had  been  dragged,  in  s])ite  of  himself,  into  a  movement 
for  separating  the  island  from  France.  Napoleon  had  taken 
the  position  that  the  French  government,  whatever  its  ex- 
cesses, was  the  only  advocate  in  Europe  of  liberty  and  equal- 
ity, and  that  Corsica  would  better  remain  with  France  rather 
than  seek  English  aid,  as  it  must  if  it  revolted.  But  he  and 
his  party  were  defeated,  and  he  with  his  family  was  obliged 
to  flee. 

The  Corsican  period  of  his  life  was  over;  the  French  had 
opened.  He  began  it  as  a  thorough  republican.  The  evo- 
lution of  his  enthusiasm  for  the  Revolution  had  been  natural 
enough.  He  had  been  a  devoted  believer  in  Rousseau's 
principles.  The  year  1789  had  struck  down  the  abuses  which 
galled  him  in  French  society  and  government.  After  the 
flight  of  the  king  in  1791  he  had  taken  the  oath : 


"  I  swear  to  employ  the  arms  placed  in  my  hands  for  the  defence 
of  the  country,  and  to  maintain  against  all  her  enemies,  both  from 
within  and  from  without,  the  Constitution  as  declared  by  the  National 
Assembly;  to  die  rather  than  to  suffer  the  invasion  of  the  French  ter- 
ritory by  foreign  troops,  and  to  obey  orders  given  in  accordance  with 
the  decree  of  the  National  Assembly." 

**  The  nation  is  now  the  paramount  object/'  he  wrote ; 
**  my  natural  inclinations  are  now  in  harmony  with  my  du- 

The  efforts  of  the  court  and  the  emigres  to  overthrow  the 
new  government  had  increased  his  devotion  to  France.  "  My 
southern  blood  leaps  in  my  veins  wnth  the  rapidity  of  the 
Rhone/'  he  said,  when  the  question  of  the  preservation  of 
the  Constitution  was  brought  up.  The  months  spent  at 
Paris  in  1792  had  only  intensified  his  radical  notions.  Now 
that  he  had  abandoned  his  country,  rather  than  assist  it  to 
fight  the  Revolution,  he  was  better  prepared  than  ever  to 
become  a  Frenchman.  It  seemed  the  only  way  to  repair  his 
and  his  family's  fortune. 

The  condition  of  the  Bonapartes  on  arriving  in  France 
after  their  expulsion  from  Corsica  was  abject.  Their  prop- 
erty "  pillag^l  sacked,  and  burned,"  they  had  escaped  pen- 
niless— were,  in  fact,  refugees  dependent  upon  French 
bounty.  They  wandered  from  place  to  place,  but  at  last 
found  a  good  friend  in  Monsieur  Clary  of  Marseilles,  a  soap- 
boiler, with  two  pretty  daughters,  Julie  and  Desiree,  and 
Joseph  and  Napoleon  became  inmates  of  his  house. 

It  was  not  as  a  soldier  but  as  a  writer  that  Napoleon  first 
distinguished  himself  in  this  new  period  of  his  life.  An  in- 
surrection against  the  government  had  arisen  in  Marseilles. 
In  an  imaginary  conversation  called  le  souper  de  Beaucaire, 
Napoleon  discussed  the  situation  so  clearly  and  justly  that 
Salicetti,  Gasparin,  and  Robespierre  the  younger,  the  depu- 
ties who  were  looking  after  the  South,  ordered  the  paper 
published  at  public  expense,  and  distributed  it  as  a  campaign 

Louvre.      It   possesses   m 
of  the  Bchool  fellows  of 

■    Brienne   by   one 

"  Mh  cara  amico  BuBnaparlt.    PtntorniHi  dtl  Teumenf.     1785." 


document.  More,  they  promised  to  favor  the  author  when 
they  had  an  opportunity. 

It  soon  came.  Toulon  had  opened  its  doors  to  the  Eng- 
Hsh  and  joined  Marseilles  in  a  counter-revolution.  Napo- 
leon was  in  the  force  sent  against  the  town,  and  he  was  soon 
promoted  to  the  command  of  the  Second  Regiment  of  artil- 
lery. His  energy  and  skill  won  him  favorable  attention. 
He  saw  at  once  that  the  important  point  was  not  besieging 
the  town,  as  the  general  in  command  was  doing  and  the 
Convention  had  ordered,  but  in  forcing  the  allied  fleet  from 
the  harbor,  when  the  town  must  fall  of  itself.  But  the  com- 
mander-in-chief was  slow,  and  it  was  not  until  the  command 
was  changed  and  an  officer  of  experience  and  wisdom  put 
in  charge  that  Napoleon's  plans  were  listened  to.  The  new 
general  saw  at  once  their  value,  and  hastened  to  carry  them 
out.  The  result  was  the  withdrawal  of  the  allies  in  Decem- 
ber, 1793,  and  the  fall  of  Toulon.  Bonaparte  was  mentioned 
by  the  general-in-chief  as  "  one  of  those  who  have  most  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  aiding  me,'*  and  in  February,  1794, 
was  made  general  of  brigade. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  it  was  at  Toulon  that  Napo- 
leon  first  came  in  contact  with  the  English.  Here  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Junot,  Marmont,  and  Duroc.  Barras, 
too,  had  his  attention  drawn  to  him  at  the  same  time. 

The  circumstances  which  brought  Junot  and  Napoleon 
together  at  Toulon  were  especially  heroic.  Some  one  was 
needed  to  carry  an  order  to  an  exposed  point.  Napoleon 
asked  for  an  under  officer,  audacious  and  intelligent.  Junot, 
then  a  sergeant,  was  sent.  '*  Take  off  your  uniform  and 
carry  this  order  there,'*  said  Napoleon,  indicating  the  point. 

Junot  blushed  and  his  eyes  flashed.  ''  I  am  not  a  spy,'' 
he  answered ;  **  find  some  one  beside  me  to  execute  such  an 

"  You  refuse  to  obey?  "  said  Napoleon. 




-  I  am  rody  to  obey,"  answered  Junot,  "  but  I  will  go  in 
3iy  ^ncKTxn  or  not  go  at  all.    It  is  honor  enough  then  for 


■jie  :Qcer  smiled  and  let  him  go,  but  he  took  pains  to 
JVC  b£5  name. 
A  iew  days  later  Napoleon  called  for  some  one  in  the 
;?io  wrote  a  good  hand  to  come  to  him.   Junot  of- 
^t,  and  sat  down  close  to  the  batterv  to  write  the 
H<  had  scarcely  finished  when  a  bomb  thrown  by  the 
3ugri=sr  rcrsi  near  by  and  covered  him  and  his  letter  with 

'  5a:d  Junot,  laughing,  **  I  shall  not  need  any  sand 

iiotiu(Atrte  kx>ked  at  the  young  man,  who  had  not  even 
jl:  rhe  danger,    t^roni  that  time  the  young  sergeant 
;:th  ihe  a>mmander  of  artillery. 



THE  favors  granted  Napoleon  fqr  his  services  at  Tou- 
lon were  extended  to  his  family.  Madame  Bona- 
parte was  helped  by  the  municipality  of  Marseilles. 
Joseph  was  made  commissioner  of  war.  Lucien  was  joined 
to  the  Army  of  Italy,  and  in  the  town  where  he  was  stationed 
became  famous  as  a  popular  orator — *'  little  Robespierre/' 
they  called  him.  He  began,  too»  here  to  make  love  to  his 
landlord's  daughter,  Christine  Boyer,  afterwards  his  wife. 

The  outlook  for  the  refugees  seemed  very  good,  and  it 
was  made  still  brighter  by  the  very  particular  friendship  of 
the  younger  Robespierre  for  Napoleon.  This  friendship 
was  soon  increased  by  the  part  Napoleon  played  in  a  cam- 
paign of  a  month  with  the  Army  of  Italy,  when,  largely  by 
his  genius,  the  seaboard  from  Nice  to  Genoa  was  put  into 
French  power.  If  this  victory  was  much  for  the  army  and 
for  Robespierre,  it  was  more  for  Napoleon.  He  looked 
from  the  Tende,  and  saw  for  the  first  time  that  in  Italy  there 
was  **  a  land  for  a  conqueror."  Robespierre  wrote  to  his 
brother,  the  real  head  of  the  government  at  the  moment,  that 
Napoleon  possessed  '*  transcendent  merit.'*  He  engaged 
him  to  draw  up  a  plan  for  a  campaign  against  Piedmont,  and 
sent  him  on  a  secret  mission  to  Genoa.  The  relations  be- 
tween the  two  young  men  were,  in  fact,  very  close,  and,  con- 
sidering the  position  of  Robespierre  the  elder,  the  outlook 
for  Bonaparte  was  good. 



That  Bonaparte  admired  the  powers  of  the  elder  Robes- 
pierre, is  unquestionable.  He  was  sure  that  if  he  had  "  re- 
mained in  power,  he  would  have  reestablished  order  and 
law:  the  result  would  have  been  attained  without  any 
shocks,  because  it  would  have  come  through  the  quiet  exer- 
cise of  ])ower/'  Nevertheless,  it  is  certain  that  the  young 
general  was  unwilling  to  c(^me  into  close  contact  with  the 
Terrorist  leader,  as  his  refusal  of  an  offer  to  go  to  Paris  to 
take  the  command  of  the  garrison  of  the  city  shows.  No 
doubt  his  refusal  was  partly  due  to  his  ambition — he  thought 
the  opening  better  where  he  was — and  partly  due,  too,  to  his 
dislike  of  the  excesses  which  the  government  was  practising. 
That  he  never  favored  the  policy  of  the  Terrorists,  all  those 
who  knew  him  test  if  v.  and  there  are  manv  stories  of  his 
efforts  at  this  time  to  save  emigres  and  suspects  from  the  vio- 
lence of  the  rabid  patriots ;  even  to  save  the  English  im- 
prisoned at  Toulon.  lie  always  remembered  Robespierre 
the  younger  with  kindness,  and  when  he  was  in  power  gave 
Charlotte  Robespierre  a  pension. 

Things  had  begun  to  go  well  for  Bonaparte.  His  pov- 
erty passed.  If  his  plan  for  an  Italian  campaign  succeeded, 
he  might  even  aspire  to  the  command  of  the  army.  His 
brothers  received  good  positions.  Joseph  was  betrothed  to 
Julie  Clary,  and  life  went  gayly  at  Nice  and  Marseilles, 
where  Napoleon  had  about  him  many  of  his  friends — Robes- 
pierre and  his  sister:  his  own  two  pretty  sisters:  Marmont, 
and  Junot,  who  was  deeply  in  love  with  Pauline.  Suddenly 
all  this  hope  and  happiness  were  shattered.  On  the  9th 
Thermidor  Robespierre  fell,  and  all  who  had  favored  him 
were  suspected,  Napoleon  among  the  rest.  His  secret  mis- 
sion to  Genoa  gave  a  pretext  for  his  arrest,  and  for  thirteen 
days,  in  August,  1794,  he  was  a  prisoner,  but  through  his 
friends  was  liberated.  Soon  after  his  release,  came  an  ap- 
pointment to  join  an  expedition  against  Corsica.     He  set 


out,  but  the  undertaking  was  a  failure,  and  the  spring  found 
him  again  without  a  place. 

In  April,  1795,  Napoleon  received  orders  to  join  the  Army 
of  the  West.  When  he  reached  Paris  lie  found  that  it  was 
the  infantry  to  which  he  was  assigned.  Such  a  change  was 
considered  a  disgrace  in  the  army.  He  refused  to  go.  "  A 
great  many  officers  could  command  a  brigade  better  than  I 
could,"  he  wrote  a  friend,  ''  but  few  could  command  the  ar- 
tillery so  well.  I  retire,  satisfied  that  the  injustice  done  to 
the  service  will  be  sufficiently  felt  by  those  who  know  how 
to  appreciate  matters."  But  though  he  might  call  himself 
**  satisfied,"  his  retirement  w^as  a  most  serious  affair  for  him. 
It  was  the  collapse  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  career,  the  shut- 
ting of  the  gate  he  had  worked  so  fiercely  to  open. 

He  must  begin  again,  and  he  did  not  see  how.  A  sort  of 
despair  settled  over  him.  **  He  declaimed  against  fate," 
says  the  Duchess  d'Abrantes.  **  I  was  idle  and  discon- 
tented," he  says  of  himself.  He  went  to  the  theatre  and  sat 
sullen  and  inattentive  through  the  gayest  of  plays.  "  He 
had  moments  of  fierce  hilarity,"  says  Bourrienne. 

A  pathetic  distaste  of  effort  came  over  him  at  times;  he 
wanted  to  settle.  **  If  I  could  have  that  house,"  he  said  one 
day  to  Bourrienne,  pointing  to  an  empty  house  near  by, 
'*  with  my  friends  and  a  cabriolet,  I  should  be  the  happiest  of 
men."  He  clung  to  his  friends  with  a  sort  of  desperation, 
and  his  letters  to  Joseph  are  touching  in  the  extreme. 

Love  as  well  as  failure  caused  his  melancholy.  All  about 
him,  indeed,  turned  thoughts  to  marriage.  Joseph  was  now- 
married,  and  his  happiness  made  him  envious.  *'  What  a 
lucky  rascal  Joseph  is !  "  he  said.  Junot,  madly  in  love  with 
Pauline,  was  wnth  him.  The  two  young  men  wandered 
through  the  alleys  of  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  and  discussed 
Junot's  passion.  In  listening  to  his  friend.  Napoleon 
thought  of  himself.  He  had  been  attracted  by  Desiree  Clary, 


Joseph's  sister-in-iaw.  Why  not  try  to  win  her?  And  he 
began  to  demand  news  of  her  from  Joseph.  Desiree  had 
asked  for  his  portrait,  and  he  wrote :  ''  I  shall  have  it  taken 
for  her ;  you  must  give  it  to  her,  if  she  still  wants  it ;  if  not, 
keep  it  yourself."  He  was  melancholy  when  he  did  not  have 
news  of  her,  accused  Joseph  of  purposely  omitting  her  name 
from  his  letters,  and  Desiree  herself  of  forgetting  him.  At 
last  he  consulted  Joseph :  "  If  I  remain  here,  it  is  just  possi- 
ble that  I  might  feel  inclined  to  commit  the  folly  of  marry- 
ing. I  should  be  glad  of  a  line  from  you  on  the  subject. 
You  might  perhaps  speak  to  Eugenie's  [Desiree's]  brother, 
and  let  me  know  what  he  says,  and  then  it  will  be  settled." 
He  waited  the  answer  to  his  overtures  **  with  impatience  " ; 
urged  his  brother  to  arrange  things  so  that  nothing  ''  may 
prevent  that  which  I  long  for."  But  Desiree  was  obdurate. 
Later  she  married  Bernadotte  and  became  Queen  of  Sweden. 
Yet  in  these  varying  moods  he  was  never  idle.  As  three 
years  before,  he  and  Bourrienne  indulged  in  financial  spec- 
ulations ;  he  tried  to  persuade  Joseph  to  invest  his  wife's  dot 
in  the  property  of  the  emigres.  He  pre])ared  memorials  on 
the  political  disorders  of  the  times  and  on  military  questions, 
and  he  pushed  his  brothers  as  if  he  had  no  personal  ambition. 
He  did  not  neglect  to  make  friends  either.  The  most  im- 
portant of  those  whom  he  cultivated  was  Paul  Barras,  revolu- 
tionist, conventionalist,  member  of  the  Directorv,  and  one  of 
the  most  influential  men  in  Paris  at  that  moment.  He  had 
known  Napoleon  at  Toulon,  and  showed  himself  disposed 
to  be  friendly.  **  I  attached  myself  to  Barras,"  said  Napo- 
leon later,  '*  because  I  knew  no  one  else.  Robespierre  was 
dead;  Barras  was  playing  a  role:  I  had  to  attach  myself  to 
somebody  and  something."  One  of  his  ])lans  for  himself 
was  to  go  to  Turkey.  For  two  or  three  years,  in  fact.  Napo- 
leon had  thought  of  the  Orient  as  a  possible  field  for  his 
genius,  and  his  mother  had  often  worried  lest  he  should  go. 


Just  now  it  happened  that  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  asked  the 
French  for  aid  in  reorganizing  his  artillery  and  perfecting 
the  defences  of  his  forts,  and  Napoleon  asked  to  be  allowed 
to  undertake  the  work.  While  pushing  all  his  plans  with 
extraordinary  enthusiasm,  even  writing  Joseph  almost  daily 
letters  about  what  he  would  do  for  him  when  he  was  settled 
in  the  Orient,  he  was  called  to  do  a  piece  of  work  which  was 
to  be  of  importance  in  his  future. 

The  war  committee  needed  plans  for  an  Italian  campaign ; 
the  head  of  the  committee  was  in  great  perplexity.  Nobody 
knew  anything  about  the  condition  of  things  in  the  South. 
By  chance,  one  day,  one  of  Napoleon's  accjuaintances  heard 
of  the  difficulties  and  recommended  the  young  general.  The 
memorial  he  prepared  was  so  excellent  that  he  was  invited 
into  the  topograj)hical  bureau  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety.  His  knowledge,  sense,  energ}%  fire,  were  so  re- 
markable that  he  made  strong  friends  and  became  an  im- 
portant ])ersonage. 

Such  was  the  impression  he  made,  that  when  in  October, 
1795,  the  government  was  threatened  by  the  revolting  sec- 
tions, Barras,  the  nominal  head  of  the  defence,  asked  Napo- 
leon to  command  the  forces  which  protected  the  Tuileries, 
where  the  Convention  had  gone  into  permanent  session.  He 
hesitated  for  a  moment.  He  had  much  sympathy  for  the 
sections.  His  sagacity  concjuered.  The  Convention  stood 
for  the  republic :  an  overthrow  now  meant  another  pro- 
scription, more  of  the  Terror,  perhaps  a  royalist  succession, 
an  English  invasion. 

**  I  accept,'*  he  said  to  Barras :  **  but  I  warn  you  that  once 
my  sw(^rd  is  out  of  the  scabbard  I  shall  not  replace  it  till  I 
have  established  order." 

It  was  on  the  night  of  12th  Vendemiaire  that  Napoleon 
was  appointed.  W'ith  incredible  rapidity  he  massed  the  men 
and  cannon  he  could  secure  at  the  openings  into  the  palace 


and  at  the  points  of  approach.  He  armed  even  the  members 
of  Jhe  Convention  as  a  reserve.  When  the  sections  marched 
their  men  into  the  streets  and  upon  the  bridges  leading  to  the 
Tuileries,  they  were  met  by  a  fire  which  scattered  them  at 
once.  That  night  Paris  was  quiet.  The  next  day  Napo- 
leon was  made  general  of  division.  On  October  26th  he 
was  appointed  general-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Interior. 

At  last  the  opportunity  he  had  sought  so  long  and  so 
eagerly  had  come.  It  was  a  proud  position  for  a  young 
man  of  twenty-six,  and  one  may  well  stop  and  ask  how  he 
had  obtained  it.  The  answer  is  not  difficult  for  one  who, 
dismissing  the  prejudices  and  superstitions  which  have  long 
enveloped  his  name,  studies  his  story  as  he  would  that  of  an 
unknown  individual.  He  had  won  his  place  as  any  poor 
and  ambitious  boy  in  any  country  and  in  any  age  must  win 
his — by  hard  work,  by  grasping  at  every  opportunity,  by 
constant  self-denial,  by  courage  in  every  failure,  by  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  after  every  fall. 

He  succeeded  because  he  knew  every  detail  of  his  business 
(**  There  is  nothing  I  cannot  do  for  myself.  If  there  is  no 
one  to  make  powder  for  the  cannon  I  can  do  it  ")  ;  because 
neither  ridicule  nor  coldness  nor  even  the  black  discourage- 
ment which  made  him  write  once  to  Joseph,  "  If  this  state 
of  things  continues  I  shall  end  by  not  turning  out  of  my  path 
when  a  carriage  passes,"  could  stop  him;  because  he  had 
profound  faith  in  himself.  **  Do  these  people  imagine  that  I 
want  their  help  to  rise?  They  will  be  too  glad  some  day  to 
accept  mine.  My  sword  is  at  my  side,  and  I  will  go  far  with 
it."  That  he  had  misrepresented  conditions  more  than  once 
to  secure  favor,  is  true ;  but  in  doing  this  he  had  done  simply 
what  he  saw  done  all  about  him,  what  he  had  learned  from 
his  father,  what  the  oblique  morality  of  the  day  justified. 
That  he  had  shifted  opinions  and  allegiance,  is  equally  true ; 
but  he  who  in  the  French  Revolution  did  not  shift  opinion 

'  (o  a   Rnishcd  [Kii 


was  he  who  regarded  "  not  what  is,  but  what  might  be." 
Certainly  in  no  respect  had  he  been  worse  than  his  environ- 
ment, and  in  many  respects  he  had  been  far  above  it.  He 
had  struggled  for  place,  not  that  he  might  have  ease,  but  that 
he  might  have  an  opportunity  for  action ;  not  that  he  might 
amuse  himself,  but  that  he  might  achieve  glory.  Nor  did 
he  seek  honors  merely  for  himself;  it  was  that  he  might 
share  them  with  others. 

The  first  use  Bonaparte  made  of  his  power  after  he  was 
appointed  general-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Interior,  was 
for  his  family  and  friends.  Fifty  or  sixty  thousand  francs, 
assignats,  and  dresses  go  to  his  mother  and  sisters;  Joseph 
is  to  have  a  consulship;  **  a  roof,  a  table,  and  carriage  "  are 
at  his  disposal  in  Paris;  Louis  is  made  a  lieutenant  and  his 
aide-de-camp ;  Lucien,  commissioner  of  war ;  Junot  and  Mar- 
mont  are  put  on  his  staflf.  He  forgets  nobody.  The  very 
day  after  the  13th  Vendemiaire,  when  his  cares  and  excite- 
ments were  numerous  and  intense,  he  was  at  the  Permon's, 
where  Monsieur  Permon  had  just  died.  "  He  was  like  a 
son,  a  brother.''  This  relation  he  soon  tried  to  change,  seek- 
ing to  marry  the  beautiful  widow  Permon.  When  she 
laughed  merrily  at  the  idea,  for  she  was  many  years  his 
senior,  he  replied  that  the  age  of  his  wife  was  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  him  so  long  as  she  did  not  look  over  thirty. 

The  change  in  Bonaparte  himself  was  great.  Up  to  this 
time  he  had  gone  about  Paris  "  in  an  awkward  and  ungainly 
manner,  with  a  shabby  round  hat  thrust  down  over  his  eyes, 
and  with  curls  (known  at  that  time  as  orcillcs  dcs  chicns) 
badly  powdered  and  badly  combed,  and  falling  over  the  col- 
lar of  the  iron -gray  coat  which  has  since  become  so  cele- 
brated ;  his  hands,  long,  thin,  and  black,  without  gloves,  ht- 
cause,  he  said,  they  were  an  unnecessary  expense;  wearing 
ill-made  and  ill-cleaned  boots.'*  The  majority  of  people 
saw  in  him  only  what  Monsieur  de  Pontecoulant,  who  took 


him  into  the  War  Office,  liad  seen  at  their  first  interview; 
**  A  young  man  with  a  wan  and  Hvid  complexion,  bowed 
shoulders,  and  a  weak  and  sickly  appearance." 

But  now,  installed  in  an  elegant  hotel,  driving  his  own  car- 
riage, careful  of  his  person,  received  in  every  salon  where  he 
cared  to  go,  the  young  general-in-chief  is  a  changed  man. 
Success  has  had  much  to  do  with  this ;  love  has  perhaps  had 



napoleon's  courtship  and  marriage HIS  DEVOTION  TO 


IN  the  five  months  spent  in  Paris  before  the  13th  Vende- 
miaire,  Bonaparte  saw  something  of  society.  One  in- 
teresting company  which  he  often  joined,  was  that 
gathered  about  Madame  Permon  at  a  hotel  in  the  Rue  des 
Filles  Saint-Thomas.  This  Madame  Permon  was  the  same 
with  whom  he  had  taken  refuge  frequently  in  the  days 
when  he  was  in  the  military  school  of  Paris,  and  whom  he 
had  visited  later,  in  1792,  when  lingering  in  town  with 
hope  of  recovering  his  place  in  the  army.  On  this  latter 
occasion  he  had  even  exposed  himself  to  aid  her  and  her 
husband  to  escape  the  fury  of  the  Terrorists  and  to  fly  from 
the  citv.  Madame  Permon  had  returned  to  Paris  in  the 
spring  of  1795  for  a  few  weeks,  and  numl>ers  of  her  old 
friends  had  gathered  about  her  as  before  the  Terror,  among 
them,  Bonaparte. 

Another  house — and  one  of  verv  different  character — at 
which  he  was  received,  was  that  of  Barras.  The  9th  Thermi- 
dor,  as  the  fall  of  Robespierre  is  called,  released  Paris  from 
a  strain  of  terror  so  great  that,  in  reaction,  she  plunged  for  a 
time  into  violent  excess.  In  this  period  of  decadence  Barras 
was  sovereign.  Epicurean  by  nature,  possessing  the  tastes, 
culture,  and  vices  of  the  old  regime,  he  was  better  fitted 
than  any  man  in  the  government  to  create  and  direct  a  dis- 
solute and  luxurious  society.  Into  this  set  Napoleon  was  in- 
troduced, and  more  than  once  he  expressed  his  astonishment 
to  Joseph  at  the  turn  things  had  taken  in  Paris. 



"  The  pleasure-seekers  have  reappeared,  and  forget,  or,  rather,  remem- 
ber only  as  a  dream,  that  they  ever  ceased  to*  shine.  Libraries  are  open, 
and  lectures  on  history,  chemistry,  astronomy,  etc..  succeed  each  other. 
Everything  is  done  to  amuse  and  make  life  agreeable.  One  has  no  time 
to  think ;  and  how  can  one  be  gloomy  in  this  busy  whirlwind  ?  Women 
are  everywhere — at  the  theatres,  on  the  promenades,  in  the  libraries.  In 
the  study  of  the  savant  you  meet  some  that  are  charming.  Here  alone, 
of  all  places  in  the  world,  they  deserve  to  hold  the  helm.  The  men  are 
mad  over  them,  think  only  of  them,  live  only  by  and  for  them.  A 
woman  need  not  stay  more  than  six  months  in  Paris  to  learn  what  is 
due  her  and  what  is  her  empire.  .  .  .  This  great  nation  has  given 
itself  up  to  pleasure,  dancing,  and  theatres,  and  women  have  become  the 
principal  occupation.  Ease,  luxury,  and  ban  ton  have  recovered  their 
throne;  the  Terror  is  remembered  only  as  a  dream." 

Bonaparte  took  his  part  in  the  gayeties  of  his  new  friends, 
and  was  soon  on  easy  terms  with  most  of  the  women  who 
frequented  the  salon  of  Rarras,  even  with  the  most  in- 
fluential of  tliem  all,  the  famous  Madame  Tallien,  the  great 
beauty  of  the  Directory. 

Among  the  women  whom  he  met  in  the  salon  of  Madame 
Tallien  and  at  Barras's  own  house,  was  the  Viscountess  de 
Beauharnais  {ncc  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie),  widow  of  the 
Marquis  de  Beauharnais,  guillotined  on  the  5th  Thermidor, 
1794.  At  the  time  of  the  marquis's  death  his  wife  was  a 
prisoner.  She  was  released  soon  after  and  had  become  an 
intimate  friend  of  Madame  Tallien.  All  Madame  Tal- 
lien's  circle  had,  indeed,  become  attached  to  Josephine  de 
Beauharnais,  and  with  Barras  she  was  on  terms  of  intimacy 
which  led  to  a  great  amount  (^f  gossip.  Without  fortune, 
having  two  children  to  support,  still  trembling  at  the  mem- 
ory of  her  imprisonment,  indolent  and  vain,  it  is  not  re- 
markable that  Josephine  yielded  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
society  which  had  saved  her  from  prison  and  which  now 
opened  its  arms  to  her,  nor  that  she  accepted  the  protection 
of  the  powerful  Director  Barras.  She  was  certainly  one  of 
the  regular  habitues  of  his  house,  and  every  week  kept  court 
for  him  at  her  little  home  at  Croissy,  a  few  miles  from  Paris. 


The  Baron  Pasquier,  afterwards  one  of  the  members  of 
Napoleon's  Council  of  State,  was  at  that  moment  living  in 
poverty  at  Croissy — and  was  a  neighbor  of  Josephine.  In 
his  **  Memoirs  "  he  has  left  a  paragraph  on  the  gay  little 
outings  taken  there  by  Barras  and  his  friends. 

"  Her  house  was  next  to  ours/'  says  Pasquier.  **  She  did 
not  come  out  often  at  that  time,  rarely  more  than  once  a 
week,  to  receive  Barras  and  the  troop  which  always  fol- 
lowed him.  From  early  in  the  morning  we  saw  the  hampers 
coming.  Then  mounted  gendarmes  began  to  circulate  on 
the  route  from  Nanterre  to  Croissy,  for  the  young  Director 
came  usually  on  horseback. 

"  Madame  de  Beauharnais's  house  had,  as  is  often  the  case 
among  Creoles,  an  appearance  of  luxury;  but,  the  super- 
fluous aside,  the  most  necessary  things  were  lacking.  Birds, 
game,  rare  fruits,  were  piled  up  in  the  kitchen  (this  was  the 
time  of  our  greatest  famine),  and  there  was  such  a  want  of 
stewing-pans,  glasses,  and  plates,  that  they  had  to  come  and 
borrow  from  our  poor  stock." 

There  was  much  about  Josephine  de  Beauharnais  to  win 
the  favor  of  such  a  man  as  Barras.  A  Creole  past  the  fresh- 
ness of  youth — ^Josephine  was  thirty-two  years  old  in  1795 
—  she  had  a  grace,  a  sweetness,  a  charm,  that  made  one  for- 
get that  she  was  not  beautiful,  even  when  she  was  beside 
such  brilliant  women  as  Madame  Tallien  and  Madame 
Recamier.  It  was  never  possible  to  surprise  her  in  an  at- 
titude that  was  not  graceful.  She  was  never  ruffled  or 
irritable.  By  nature  she  was  perfection  of  ease  and  repose. 
Artist  enough  to  dress  in  clinging  stuffs  made  simply, 
which  harmonized  perfectly  with  her  style,  and  skilful 
enough  to  use  the  arts  of  the  toilet  to  conceal  defects  which 
care  and  age  had  brought,  the  Viscountess  de  Beauharnais 
was  altogether  one  of  the  most  fascinating  women  in 
Madame  Tallien's  circle. 

agu.  Wamn   Ijrrey  Kil/nic".!!!   JntircslinR  nint.'i'.'lc'  r;'s'ar.''ih'!JJ'"llili! 

""-e   Baron,  son  of  Ihe  chief  lurRnHi  Id  Xapdcon   (,.  and 

>n  to  Xatwicon  III..  liarM'cnine  1<>  1h-  with 
.  of  Chalons  canceivcd  tlie  nnl.le  idea  of 
iryiim  in  »nVL-  me  iwaimcnl  of  Die  I'anthe.m.  tlu-n  al»ul  l»  Iv 
•Ifstroj't-d  M  «alisfv  th«  Arcliliishm)  of  Paris,  who  rt't:arik-U  uilii 
lively  disiileasure  the  Image  of  Voltaire  fitcuriiiB  on  the  facade  of 
a  buildinti  ncnly  cnnsecratiil  In  rclifiiDn.  At  lliv  emiwror's  table. 
Barrm  H.  Lariey  adroitly  turned  the  conversatii)n  to  llaviil.  and 
informed  the  sovereinn.  lu  his  *un'rise,  Ih.-il  the  ffuudral  effigy  of 

is  represented  as  aeiiinjc  for  himself  the  crowns  distributed  by  the 

thia.  Napoleon  III.  was  silent;  but  the  next  day  the  order  was  Riven 
to  respect  Ihe  pediment.  The  plaster  cast  1  ^eprl^dllce  here  is 
signed   /.    PnH^.   and   dales   from    iBj6.      The   Pantlicun   ivdimenl 


The  goodness  of  Josephine's  heart  undoubtedly  won  her 
as  many  friends  as  her  grace.  Everybody  who  came  to 
know  her  at  all  well,  declared  her  gentle,  sympathetic,  and 
helpful.  Everybody  except,  perhaps,  the  Bonaparte  family, 
who  never  cared  for  her,  and  whom  she  never  tried  to  win. 
Lucien,  indeed,  draws  a  picture  of  her  in  his  "  Memoirs '' 
which,  if  it  could  be  regarded  as  unprejudiced,  would  take 
much  of  her  charm  from  her : 

**  Josephine  was  not  disagreeable,  or  perhaps  I  better  say,  everybody 
declared  that  she  was  very  good;  but  it  was  especially  when  goodness 
cost  her  no  sacrifice.  .  .  .  She  had  very  little  wit,  and  no  beauty  at 
all ;  but  there  was  a  certain  Creole  suppleness  about  her  form.  She 
had  lost  all  natural  freshness  of  complexion,  but  that  the  arts  of  the 
toilet  remedied  by  candle-light.  ...  In  the  brilliant  companies  of 
the  Directory,  to  which  Barras  did  me  the  honor  of  admitting  me,  she 
scarcely  attracted  my  attention,  so  old  did  she  seem  to  me,  .and  so  in- 
ferior to  the  other  beauties  which  ordinarily  formed  the  court  of  the 
voluptuous  Directors,  and  among  whom  the  beautiful  Tallien  was  the 
true  Calypso.*' 

But  if  Lucien  was  not  attracted  to  Josephine,  Napoleon  w-as 
from  the  first ;  and  when,  one  day,  Madame  de  Beauharnais 
said  some  flattering  things  to  him  about  his  military  talent, 
he  was  fairly  intoxicated  by  her  praise,  followed  her  every- 
where, and  fell  wildly  in  love  with  her;  but  by  her  station, 
her  elegance,  her  influence,  she  seemed  inaccessible  to  him. 
and  then,  too,  he  was  looking  elsewhere  for  a  wife.  When 
he  first  knew  her,  he  was  thinking  of  Desiree  Clary;  and  he 
had  known  Josephine  some  time  when  he  sought  the  hand 
of  the  widow  Permon. 

Though  he  dared  not  tell  her  his  love,  all  his  circle  knew 
of  it,  and  Barras  at  last  said  to  him,  **  You  should  marry 
Madame  de  Beauharnais.  You  have  a  position  and  talents 
which  will  secure  advancement;  but  you  are  isolated,  with- 
out fortune  and  without  relations.  You  ought  to  marry; 
it  gives  wxight,''  and  he  asked  permission  to  negotiate  the 


Josephine  was  distressed.  Barras  was  her  protector.  She 
felt  the  wisdom  of  his  advice,  but  Napoleon  frightened  and 
wearied  her  by  the  violence  of  his  love.  In  spite  of  her 
doubts  she  yielded  at  last,  and  on  the  9th  of  March,  1796, 
they  were  married.  Shortly  before,  Xapoleon  had  been  ap- 
pointed commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  Italy,  and  two 
days  later  he  left  his  wife  for  his  post. 

From  every  station  on  his  route  he  wrote  her  passionate 
letters : 

*'  Every  moment  takes  me  farther  from  you.  and  every  moment  I  feel 
less  able  to  be  away  from  you.  Vou  arc  ever  in  my  thoughts ;  my  fancy 
tires  itself  in  trying  to  imagine  what  you  are  doing.  If  I  picture  you  sad, 
my  heart  is  wrung  and  my  grief  is  increased.  If  you  are  happy  and 
merry  with  your  friends,  I  blame  you  for  so  .^^oon  forgetting  the  painful 
three  days  separation;  in  that  case  you  arc  frivolous  and  destitute  of 
deep  feeling.  As  you  see.  I  am  hard  to  please ;  but.  my  dear,  it  is  very 
different  when  I  fear  your  health  is  bad.  or  that  you  have  any  reasons 
for  being  sad ;  then  I  regret  the  speed  with  which  I  am  being  separated 
from  my  love.  I  am  sure  that  you  have  no  hunger  any  kind  feeling  to- 
ward me,  and  I  can  only  be  satisfied  when  I  have  heard  that  all  goes 
well  with  you.  When  any  one  asks  me  if  I  have  slept  well,  I  feel  that 
I  cannot  answer  until  a  messenger  brings  me  word  that  you  have  rested 
well.  The  illnesses  and  anger  of  men  affect  me  only  so  far  as  I  think 
they  may  affect  you.  May  my  good  genius,  who  has  always  protected 
me  amid  great  perils,  guard  and  protect  you !  I  will  gladly  dispense 
with  him.  Ah!  don't  be  happy,  but  be  a  little  melancholy,  and,  above 
all,  keep  sorrow  from  your  mind  and  illness  from  your  body.  You 
remember  what  Ossian  says  about  that.  Write  to  me.  my  pet,  and  a 
good  long  letter,  and  accept  a  thousand  and  one  kisses  from  your  best 
and  most  loving  friend." 

Arrived  in  Italy  he  wrote : 

"  I  have  received  all  your  letters,  but  none  has  made  such  an  im- 
pression on  me  as  the  How  can  you  think,  my  dear  love,  of  writ- 
ing to  me  in  such  a  way?  Don't  you  believe  my  position  is  already  cruel 
enough,  without  adding  to  my  regrets  and  tormenting  my  soul? 
What  a  style!  What  feelings  are  those  you  describe!  It's  like  fire;  it 
burns  my  poor  heart.  My  only  Josephine,  away  from  you  there  is  no 
happiness;  away  from  you,  the  world  is  a  desert  in  which  I  stand  alone, 
with  no  chance  of  tasting  the  delicious  joy  of  pouring  out  my  heart. 
You  have  robbed  me  of  more  than  my  soul ;  you  are  the  sole  thought  of 


my  life.  If  I  am  worn  out  by  all  the  torments  of  events,  and  fear  the 
issue,  if  men  disgust  me,  if  I  am  ready  to  curse  life,  I  place  my  hand 
on  my  heart;  your  image  is  beating  there.  I  look  at  it,  and  love  is  for 
me  perfect  happiness;  and  everything  is  smiling,  except  the  time  that  I 
see  myself  absent  from  my  love.  By  what  art  have  you  learned  how  to 
captivate  all  my  faculties,  to  concentrate  my  whole  being  in  yourself? 
To  live  for  Josephine !  That's  the  story  of  my  life.  I  do  everything  to 
get  to  you ;  I  am  dying  to  join  you.  Fool !  Do  I  not  see  that  I  am 
only  going  farther  from  you?  How  many  lands  and  countries  separate 
us!  How  long  before  you  will  read  these  words  which  express  but 
feebly  the  emotions  of  the  heart  over  which  you  reign!     .     .     .'* 

"  Don't  be  anxious ;  love  me  like  your  eyes — but  that's  not  enough — 
like  yourself;  more  than  yourself,  than  your  thoughts,  your  mind,  your 
life,  your  all.  But  forgive  me,  I'm  raving.  Nature  is  weak  when  one 
loves    .    .    ." 

**  I  have  received  a  letter  which  you  interrupt  to  go,  you  say,  into  the 
country;  and  afterwards  you  pretend  to  be  jealous  of  me,  who  am  so 
worn  out  by  work  and  fatigue.  Oh.  my  dear !  ...  Of  course,  I  am 
in  the  wrong.  In  the  early  spring  the  country  is  beautiful ;  and  then  the 
nineteen-year  old  lover  was  there,  without  a  doubt.  The  idea  of  wast- 
ing another  moment  in  writing  to  the  man  three  hundred  leagues  away, 
who  lives,  moves,  exists  only  in  memory  of  you ;  who  reads  your  letters 
as  one  devours  one's  favorite  dishes  after  hunting  for  six  hours  I  " 

JVNOI      (I7?l"8l3>. 




BUT  Napoleon  had  much  to  occupy  him  besides  his  sep- 
aration from  Josephine.  Extraordinary  difficulties 
surrounded  his  new  post.  Neither  the  generals  nor 
the  men  knew  anything  of  their  new  commander.  **  Who 
is  this  General  Bonaparte?  Where  has  he  served?  No 
one  knows  anything  about  him,"  wrote  Junot's  father  when 
the  latter  at  Toulon  decided  to  follow  his  artillery  com- 

In  the  Army  of  Italy  they  were  asking  the  same  questions, 
and  the  Directory  could  only  answer  as  Junot  had  done: 
"  As  far  as  I  can  judge,  he  is  one  of  those  men  of  whom 
nature  is  avaricious,  and  that  she  permits  upon  the  earth 
only  from  age  to  age." 

He  was  to  replace  a  commander-in-chief  who  had  sneered 
at  his  plans  for  an  Italian  campaign  and  who  might  be  ex- 
pected to  put  obstacles  in  his  way.  He  was  to  take  an  army 
which  was  in  the  last  stages  of  poverty  and  discouragement. 
Their  garments  were  in  rags.  Even  the  officers  were  so 
nearly  shoeless  that  when  they  reached  Milan  and  one  of 
them  was  invited  to  dine  at  the  palace  of  a  marquise,  he  was 
obliged  to  go  in  shoes  without  soles  and  tied  on  by  cords 
carefully  blacked.  They  had  provisions  for  only  a  month, 
and  half  rations  at  that.  The  Piedmontese  called  them  the 
"  rag  heroes." 

Worse  than  their  poverty  was  their  inactivity.     "  For 



three  years  they  had  fired  off  their  guns  in  Italy  only  because 
war  was  going  on,  and  not  for  any  especial  object — only 
to  satisfy  their  consciences/'  Discontent  was  such  that 
counter-revolution  gained  ground  daily.  One  company  had 
even  taken  the  name  of  **  Dauphin/'  and  royalist  songs 
were  heard  in  camp. 

Napoleon  saw  at  a  glance  all  these  difficulties,  and  set 
himself  to  ccMKjuer  them.  With  his  generals  he  was  reserved 
and  severe.  **  It  was  necessary/'  he  explained  afterward, 
**  in  order  to  command  men  so  much  older  than  myself/' 
His  look  and  bearing  quelled  insubordination,  restrained 
familiarity,  even  insj)ired  fear.  **  From  his  arrival,"  says 
Marmont,  **  his  attitude  was  that  of  a  man  born  for  power. 
It  was  i)lain  to  the  least  clairvoyant  eyes  that  he  knew  how 
to  compel  obedience,  and  scarcely  was  he  in  authority  before 
the  line  of  a  celebrated  poet  might  have  been  api)lied  to  him: 

**  '  Des  cgaux?  des  longtcmps  Mahomet  n'en  a  plus.'" 

General  Decrrs,  who  had  known  Napoleon  well  at  Paris, 
hearing  that  he  was  going  to  pass  through  Toulon,  where 
he  was  stationed,  offered  to  present  his  comrades.  '*  I  run," 
he  says,  **  full  of  eagerness  and  joy;  the  salon  opens;  I  am 
about  to  spring  fc^rward,  when  the  attitude,  the  look,  the 
sound  of  his  voice  are  sufficient  to  stop  me.  There  was  noth- 
ing rude  about  him,  but  it  was  enough.  From  that  time  I 
was  never  tempted  to  pass  the  line  which  had  been  drawn 
for  me." 

Lavalette  says  of  his  first  interview  with  him :  **  He  looked 
weak,  but  his  regard  was  so  firm  and  so  fixed  that  I  felt 
myself  turning  pale  when  he  spoke  to  me."  Augereau  goes 
to  see  him  at  Albenga,  full  of  contempt  for  this  favorite  of 
Barras  who  has  never  known  an  action,  determined  on  in- 
subordination. Bonaparte  comes  out,  little,  thin,  round- 
shouldered,  and  gives  Augereau,  a  giant  among  the  generals, 


his  orders.  The  big  man  backs  out  in  a  kind  of  terror.  "  He 
frightened  me/'  he  tells  Massena.  **  His  first  glance  crushed 

He  quelled  insubordination  in  the  ranks  by  quick,  severe 
punishment,  but  it  was  not  long  that  he  had  insubordination. 
The  army  asked  nothing  but  to  act,  and  immediately  they 
saw  that  they  were  to  move.  He  had  reached  his  post  on 
March  22d;    nineteen  days  later  operations  began. 

The  theatre  of  action  was  along  that  portion  of  the  mari- 
time Alps  which  runs  parallel  with  the  sea.  Bonaparte  held 
the  coast  and  the  mountains;  and  north,  in  the  foot-hills, 
stretched  from  the  Tende  to  Genoa,  were  the  Austrians  and 
their  Sardinian  allies.  If  the  French  were  fully  ten  thou- 
sand inferior  in  number,  their  position  was  the  stronger,  for 
the  enemy  was  scattered  in  a  hilly  country  where  it  was 
difficult  to  unite  their  divisions. 

As  Bonaparte  faced  his  enemy,  it  was  with  a  youthful 
zest  and  anticipation  which  explains  much  of  what  follows. 
**  The  two  armies  are  in  motion,"  he  wrote  Josephine,  **  each 
trying  to  outwit  the  other.  The  more  skilful  will  succeed. 
I  am  much  pleased  with  Beaulieu.  He  manoeuvres  very 
well,  and  is  superior  to  his  predecessor.  I  shall  beat  him,  I 
hope,  out  of  his  boots.'' 

The  first  step  in  the  campaign  was  a  skilful  stratagem. 
He  spread  rumors  which  made  Beaulieu  suspect  that  he  in- 
tended marching  on  Genoa,  and  he  threw  out  his  lines  in 
that  direction.  The  Austrian  took  the  feint  as  a  genuine 
movement,  and  marched  his  left  to  the  sea  to  cut  oflF  the 
French  advance.  But  Bonaparte  was  not  marching  to 
Genoa,  and,  rapidly  collecting  his  forces,  he  fell  on  the  Aus- 
trian army  at  Montenotte  on  April  12th,  and  defeated  it. 
The  right  and  left  of  the  allies  were  divided,  and  the  centre 

By  a  series  of  clever  feints,  Bonaparte  prevented  the  va- 


Mch  left  him  only  the  Austrians  to  fight,  and 
^Ht  t(j  fallow  Beaulieu.  who  had  fled  beyond  the 

s  lie  had  made  Beaulieu  believe,  three  weeks 
t  he  was  going  to  march  on  Genoa,  he  now  de- 
l^s  ti-  the  point  where  he  proposes  to  cross  the  Po. 
1  lielieve  it  is  at  Valenza.     When  certain  that 
a^l   his  eye  on   that  point,   Bonaparte   marched 
Wit  the  river,  and  crossed  at  Placentia.     If  an 
J  delay  had  not  occurred  in  the  passage,  he  would 
t  lin  the  Austrian  rear.     As  it  was,  Beaulieu  took 
d  withdrew  the  body  of  his  army,  after  a  slight  re- 
[  to  the  French  advance,  across  the  Adda,  leaving 
pve  thousand  men  at  Lodi. 
arte  was  jubilant.     "  We  have  crossed  the  Po,"  he 
e  directory,     "  The    second   campaign    has    coin- 
Beaulieu   is  disconcerted ;   he  miscalculates,   and 
ally  falls  into  the  snares  I  set  for  him.     Perhaps  he 
Jf  to  give  battle,  for  he  has  both  audacity  and  energy, 
pt  genius.     .     .     .     Another  victory,  and  we  shall  be 
s  of  Italy." 
Tiined  to  leave  no  enemies  behind  him,  Bonaparte 
5^  marched  against  the  twelve  thousand   men  at   Lodi. 
■town,  lying  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Adda,  was  guarded 
i  small  force  of  Austrians;  but  the  mass  of  the  enemy 
►  on  the  left  bank,  at  the  end  of  a  bridge  some  three 
idred  and  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  commanded  by  a  score 
Pmore  of  cannon. 

Rushing  into  the  town  on  May  loth  the  French  drove 
'  out  the  guarding  force,  and  arrived  at  the  bridge  before  the 
Austrians  had  time  to  destroy  it.  The  French  grenadiers 
pressed  forward  in  a  solid  mass,  but,  when  half  way  over, 
the  cannon  at  the  opposite  end  poured  such  a  storm  of  shot 
at  them  t^l.^l  the  column  wavered  and  fell  back.     Several 


generals  in  the  ranks,  Bonaparte  at  their  head,  rushed  to  the 
front  of  the  force.  The  presence  of  the  officers  was  enough 
to  inspire  the  soldiers,  and  they  swept  across  the  bridge  with 
such  impetuosity  that  the  Austrian  line  on  the  opposite  bank 
allowed  its  batteries  to  be  taken,  and  in  a  few  moments  was 
in  retreat.  **  Of  all  the  actions  in  w^hich  the  soldiers  under 
my  command  have  been  engaged,"  wrote  Bonaparte  to  the 
Directory,  **  none  has  ecjualled  the  tremendous  passage  of 
the  bridge  at  Lodi.  If  we  have  lost  but  few  soldiers,  it  was 
merely  owing  to  the  i)romptitu(le  of  our  attacks  and  the 
effect  produced  c^n  the  enemy  by  the  formidable  fire  from 
our  invincible  armv.  Were  I  to  name  all  the  officers  who 
distinguished  themselves  in  this  affair,  I  should  be  obliged 
to  enumerate  every  carabinicr  of  the  advanced  guard,  and 
almost  every  officer  belonging  to  the  staff.'' 

The  Austrians  now  withdrew  bevond  the  Mincio,  and  on 
the  15th  of  May  the  French  entered  Milan.  The  populace 
greeted  their  concjuerors  as  liberators,  and  for  several  days 
the  army  rejoiced  in  comforts  which  it  had  not  known  for 
years.  While  it  was  being  feted,  Bc^naparte  was  instituting 
the  Lombard  Republic,  and  trying  to  conciliate  or  outwit, 
as  the  case  demanded,  the  nobles  and  clerg}''  outraged  at  the 
introduction  of  French  ideas.  It  was  not  until  the  end  of 
May  that  Lombardy  was  in  a  situation  to  permit  Bonaparte 
to  follow  the  Austrians. 

After  Lodi.  Beaulieu  had  led  his  army  to  the  Mincio.  As 
usual,  his  force  was  divided,  the  right  being  near  Lake 
Garda,  the  left  at  Mantua,  the  centre  about  halfway  between, 
at  Valeggio.  It  was  at  this  latter  point  that  Bonaparte  de- 
cided to  attack  them.  Feigning  to  march  on  their  right,  he 
waited  until  his  opponent  had  fallen  into  his  trap,  and  then 
sprang  on  the  weakened  centre,  broke  it  to  pieces,  and  drove 
all  but  twelve  thousand  men,  escaped  to  Mantua,  into  the 
Tyrol.    In  fifty  days  he  had  swept  all  but  a  remnant  of  the 



Austrians  away  from  Italy.  Two  weeks  later,  having  taken 
a  strong  position  on  the  Adige,  he  began  the  siege  of 

The  French  were  victorious,  but  their  position  was  pre- 
carious. Austria  was  preparing  a  new  army.  Between  the 
victors  and  France  lay  a  number  of  feeble  Italian  govern- 
ments whose  friendship  could  not  be  depended  upon.  The 
populace  of  these  states  favored  the  French,  for  they  brought 
promises  of  liberal  government,  of  equality  and  fraternity. 
The  nobles  and  clergy  hated  them  for  the  same  reason.  It 
was  evident  that  a  victory  of  the  Austrians  would  set  all 
these  petty  princes  on  Bonaparte's  heels.  The  Papal  States 
to  the  south  were  plotting.  Naples  was  an  ally  of  Austria. 
Venice  was  neutral,  but  she  could  not  be  trusted.  The 
English  were  off  the  coast,  and  might,  at  any  moment,  make 
an  alliance  which  would  place  a  formidable  enemy  on  the 
French  rear. 

While  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  new  Austrian  army, 
Bonaparte  set  himself  to  lessening  these  dangers.  He  con- 
cluded a  peace  with  Naples.  Two  divisions  of  the  army 
were  sent  south,  one  to  Bologna,  the  other  into  Tuscany. 
The  people  received  the  French  with  such  joy  that  Rome 
was  glad  to  purchase  peace.  Leghorn  was  taken.  The 
malcontents  in  Milan  were  silenced.  By  the  time  a  fresh 
Austrian  army  of  sixty  thousand  men,  under  a  new  general, 
Wurmser,  was  ready  to  fight,  Italy  had  been  effectually 

The  Austrians  advanced  against  the  French  in  three  col- 
umns, one  to  the  west  of  Lake  Garda,  under  Quasdanovich, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  Adige,  east  of  the  lake,  under  Wurm- 
ser. Their  plan  was  to  attack  the  French  outposts  on  each 
side  of  the  lake  simultaneously,  and  then  envelop  the  army. 
The  first  movements  were  successful.  The  French  on  each 
side  of  the  lake  were  driven  back.     Bonaparte's  army  was 


inferior  to  the  one  coming  against  him,  but  the  skill  with 
which  he  handled  his  forces  and  used  the  blunders  of  the 
enemy  more  than  compensated  for  lack  of  numbers.  Rais- 
ing the  siege  of  Mantua,  he  concentrated  his  forces  at  the 
south  of  the  lake  in  such  a  way  as  to  prevent  the  reunion  of 
the  Austrians.  Then,  with  uni)aralleled  swiftness,  he  fell 
on  the  enemy  piecemeal.  Wherever  he  could  engage  a 
division  he  did  so,  providing  his  own  force  was  sui)erior  to 
that  of  the  Austrians  at  the  moment  of  the  battle.  Thus, 
on  July  31st,  at  Lonato,  he  defeated  Quasdanovich,  though 
ni>t  so  decisivelv  hut  that  the  Austrian  collected  his  division 
anil  returned  towards  the  same  place,  hoping  to  unite  there 
with  W'urmser,  wlio  had  foolishly  divided  his  divisions, 
sending  one  to  Lonato  and  another  to  Castiglione,  while  he 
Inmself  went  off  to  Mantua  to  relieve  the  garrison  there, 
lU^najKirto  engaged  the  forces  at  Lonato  and  at  Castiglione 
on  the  siunc  day  (August  ^d),  defeating  them  both,  and 
then  turnotl  his  whole  army  against  the  tody  of  Austrians 
under  W'urmser,  wIk^  by  his  time,  had  returned  from  his 
rvliol  cxiHHlition  at  Mantua.  On  August  Sth,  at  Castig- 
Hv»ne,  Wurmser  was  iK'aten,  driven  over  the  Mincio  and  into 
the  Tyn^l,  In  six  days  the  campaign  has  been  finished. 
**  rhe  Austrian  army  has  vanished  like  a  dream,"  Bonaparte 

\\t\^tc  honu\ 

It  h;ul  vanishetl,  true,  but  only  for  a  day.  Reenforce- 
UKitts  wen*  SiH>n  sent,  anil  a  new  campaign  started  early  in 
Sq^etulK^r,  Leaving  Davidovich  in  the  Tyrol  with  twenty 
ttKnisaml  men,  W'urmser  started  down  the  Brenta  with 
^wciuv  si\  thous;\nd  men,  intending  to  fall  on  Bonaparte's 
t\\Ai\  cut  him  ti>  piews,  and  relieve  Mantua.  But  Bonaparte 
iVAst  4  pl«t^  **^'  '^'^  ^*^^'"  ^'"^  ^'"^^'  ^"^'  without  waiting  to  find 
s>w  whcrt^  W'uniiser  was  going,  he  started  up  the  Adige. 
tM<ihhn<  to  attack  the  Austrians  in  the  Tyrol,  and  join 
•iHf  AV«w  of  the  Rhine,  then  on  the  upper  Danube.    As  it 


happened,  Wurmser's  plan  was  a  hai)i)y  one  for  Bonaparte. 
The  French  found  less  than  half  the  Austrian  army  opposing 
them,  and,  after  they  had  beaten  it,  discovered  that  they 
were  actually  on  the  rear  of  the  other  half.  Of  course  Bona- 
parte did  not  lose  the  opportunity.  He  sped  down  the  Brenta 
behind  Wurmser,  overtook  him  at  Bassano  on  the  8th  of 
September,  and  of  course  defeated  him.  The  Austrians  fled 
in  terrible  demoralization.  Wurmser  succeeded  in  reaching 
Mantua,  where  he  united  with  the  garrison.  The  sturdy  old 
Austrian  had  the  courage,  in  spite  of  his  losses,  to  come  out 
of  Mantua  and  meet  Bonaparte  on  the  15th,  but  he  was  de- 
feated again,  and  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  the  fortress.  If 
the  Austrians  had  been  beaten  repeatedly,  they  had  no  idea 
of  yielding,  and,  in  fact,  there  was  apparently  every  reason 
to  continue  the  struggle.  The  French  army  was  in  a  most 
desperate  condition.  Its  number  was  reduced  to  barely 
forty  thousand,  and  this  number  was  poorly  supplied,  and 
many  of  them  were  ill.  Though  living  in  the  richest  of 
countries,  the  rapacity  and  dishonesty  of  the  army  con- 
tractors were  such  that  food  reached  the  men  half  spoiled 
and  in  insufficient  quantities,  while  the  clothing  supplied  was 
pure  shoddy.  Many  officers  were  laid  up  by  wounds  or 
fatigue;  those  who  remained  at  their  posts  were  discouraged, 
and  threatening  to  resign.  The  Directory  had  tampered 
with  Bonaparte's  armistices  and  treaties  until  Naples  and 
Rome  were  ready  to  spring  upon  the  French;  and  Venice, 
if  not  openly  hostile,  was  irritating  the  army  in  many  ways. 
Bonaparte,  in  face  of  these  difficulties,  was  in  genuine 
despair : 

**  Everything  is  being  spoiled  in  Italy,"  he  wrote  the  Directory. 
**  The  prestige  of  our  forces  is  being  lost.  A  policy  which  will  give  you 
friends  among  the  princes  as  well  as  among  the  people,  is  necessary. 
Diminish  your  enemies.  The  influence  of  Rome  is  beyond  calculation. 
It  was  a  great  mi  strike  to  quarrel  with  that  power.  Had  I  been  con- 
suhed  I  should  have  delayed  negotiations  as  I  did  with  Genoa  and 


Venice.  Whenever  your  general  in  Italy  is  not  the  centre  of  everything, 
you  will  run  great  risks.  This  language  is  not  that  of  ambition;  I 
have  only  too  many  honors,  and  my  health  is  so  impaired  that  I  think 
I  shall  be  forced  to  demand  a  successor.  I  can  no  longer  get  on  horse- 
back. My  courage  alone  remains,  and  that  is  not  sufficient  in  a  position 
like  this." 

It  was  in  such  a  situation  that  Bonaparte  saw  the  Aus- 
trian force  outside  of  Mantua,  increased  to  fifty  thousand 
men,  and  a  new  commander-in-chief,  Alvinzi,  put  at  its  head. 
The  Austrians  advanced  in  two  divisions,  one  down  the 
Adige,  the  other  by  the  Brenta.  The  French  division  which 
met  the  enemy  at  Trent  and  Bassano  were  driven  back.  In 
spite  of  his  best  efforts.  Bonaparte  was  obliged  to  retire  with 
his  main  army  to  Verona.  Things  looked  serious.  Alvinzi 
was  pressing  close  to  Verona,  and  the  army  on  the  Adige 
was  slowly  driving  back  the  French  division  sent  to  hold  it 
in  check.  If  Davidovich  and  Alvinzi  united,  Bonaparte 
was  lost. 

"  Perhaps  we  are  on  the  point  of  losing  Italy,''  wrote 
Bonaparte  to  the  Directory.  **  In  a  few  days  we  shall  make 
a  last  effort.*'  On  November  14th  this  last  effort  was  made. 
Alvinzi  was  close  upon  Verona,  holding  a  position  shut  in  by 
rivers  and  mountains  on  everv  side,  and  from  which  there 
was  but  one  exit,  a  narrow  i)ass  at  his  rear.  The  French 
were  in  Verona. 

On  the  night  of  the  14th  of  Noveml)er  Bonaparte  went 
quietly  into  camp.  Early  in  the  evening  he  gave  orders  to 
leave  Verona,  and  took  the  road  westward.  It  looked  like 
a  retreat.  The  French  army  believed  it  to  be  so,  and  began 
to  say  sorrowfully  among  themselves  that  Italy  was  lost. 
When  far  enough  from  Verona,  to  escaj)e  the  attention  of 
the  enemy,  Bonaparte  wheeled  to  the  southeast.  On  the 
morning  of  the  15th  he  crossed  the  Adige,  intending,  if  pos- 
sible, to  reach  the  defile  by  which  alone  Alvinzi  could  escape 
from    his    position.      The  country  into   which   his  army 


marched  was  a  morass  crossed  bv  two  causewavs.  The 
points  which  it  was  necessary  to  take  to  command  the  defile 
were  the  town  of  Areola  and  a  bridge  over  the  rapid  stream 
on  which  the  town  lay.  The  Austrians  discovered  the  plan, 
and  hastened  out  to  (lisi)ute  Areola  and  the  bridge.  All 
day  long  the  two  armies  fought  desperately,  Bonaparte  and 
his  generals  putting  themselves  at  the  head  of  their  colunms 
and  doing  the  work  of  comnKui  soldiers.  But  at  night 
Areola  was  not  taken,  and  the  French  retired  to  the  right 
bank  of  the  Adige.  only  to  return  on  the  i6th  to  reengage 
Alvinzi,  who,  fearful  lest  his  retreat  I)e  cut  off,  had  with- 
drawn his  army  from  near  Verona,  and  had  taken  a  position 
at  Areola.  For  two  days  the  French  struggled  with  the 
Austrians.  wrenching  the  victory  from  them  before  the  close 
of  the  17th,  and  sending  them  Hying  towards  Bassano. 
Bonaparte  and  his  army  returned  to  Verona,  but  this  time  it 
was  by  the  gate  which  the  Austrians,  three  days  before,  were 
pointing  out  as  the  place  where  they  should  enter. 

It  was  a  month  and  a  half  before  the  Austrians  could  col- 
lect a  fifth  army  to  send  against  the  French.  Bonaparte, 
tormented  on  every  side  by  threatened  uprisings  in  Italy: 
opposed  by  the  Directory,  who  wanted  to  make  peace;  and 
distressed  by  the  condition  of  his  army,  worked  incessantly 
to  strengthen  his  relations,  (juiet  his  enemies,  and  restore  his 
army.  When  the  Austrians,  some  forty-five  thousand 
strong,  advanced  in  January,  1797,  against  him,  he  had  a 
force  of  about  thirty-five  thousand  men  ready  to  meet  them. 
Some  ten  thousand  of  his  army  were  watching  W'urmser 
and  twenty  thousand  Austrians  shut  up  at  Mantua. 

Alvinzi  had  planned  his  attack  skilfully.  Advancing 
with  twenty-eight  thousand  men  by  the  Adige,  he  sent 
seventeen  thousand  under  Provera  to  approach  Verona  from 
the  east.  The  two  (hvisions  were  to  approach  secretly,  and 
to  strike  simultaneously. 


At  first  Bonaparte  was  uncertain  of  the  position  of  the 
main  body  of  the  enemy.  Sending  out  feelers  in  every  direc- 
tion, he  became  convinced  that  it  must  be  that  it  approached 
Rivoli.  Leaving  a  force  at  Verona  to  hold  back  Provera, 
he  concentrated  his  army  in  a  single  night  on  the  plateau  of 
Rivoli,  and  on  the  morning  of  January  14th  advanced  to 
the  attack.  The  struggle  at  Rivoli  lasted  two  days.  Noth- 
ing but  Bonaparte's  masterly  tactics  won  it,  for  the  odds 
were  greatly  against  him.  His  victory,  however,  was  com- 
plete. Of  the  twenty-eight  thousand  Austrians  brought  to 
the  field,  less  than  half  escaped. 

While  his  battle  was  waging,  Bonaparte  was  also  directing 
the  fight  with  Provera,  who  was  intent  upon  reaching  Man- 
tua and  attacking  the  French  besiegers  on  the  rear,  while 
Wurmser  left  the  city  and  engaged  them  in  front.  The  at- 
tack had  begun,  but  Bonaparte  had  foreseen  the  move,  and 
sent  a  division  to  the  relief  of  his  men.  This  battle,  known 
as  La  Favorita,  destroved  Provera's  division  of  the  Austrian 
army,  and  so  discouraged  Wurmser,  whose  army  was  ter- 
ribly reduced  by  sickness  and  starvation,  that  he  surrendered 
on  February  2d. 

The  Austrians  were  driven  utterly  from  Italy,  but  Bona- 
parte had  no  time  to  rest.  The  Papal  States  and  the  various 
aristocratic  parties  of  southern  Italy  were  threatening  to  rise 
against  the  French.  The  spirit  of  independence  and  revolt 
which  the  invaders  were  bringing  into  the  country  could  not 
but  weaken  clerical  and  monarchical  institutions.  An  active 
enemy  to  the  south  would  have  been  a  serious  hindrance 
to  Napoleon,  and  he  marched  into  the  Papal  States.  A  fort- 
night was  sufficient  to  silence  the  threats  of  his  enemies,  and 
on  February  19.  1797,  he  signed  with  the  Pope  the  treaty 
of  Tolentino.  The  ])eace  was  no  sooner  made  than  he  started 
again  against  the  Austrians. 

When  Mantua  fell,  and  Austria  saw  herself  driven  from 


Italy,  she  had  called  her  ablest  general,  the  Archduke  Charles, 
from  the  Rhine,  and  given  him  an  army  of  over  one  hundred 
thousand  men  to  lead  against  Bonaparte.  The  French  had 
been  reenforced  to  some  seventy  thousand,  and  though 
twenty  thousand  were  necessary  to  keep  Italy  (luiet,  Bona- 
parte had  a  fine  army,  and  he  led  it  confidently  to  meet  the 
main  body  of  the  enemy,  which  had  been  sent  south  to  pro- 
tect Trieste.  Early  in  March  he  crossed  the  Tagliamento» 
and  in  a  series  of  contests,  in  which  he  was  uniformly  sue- 
cessful,  he  drove  his  opponent  back,  step  by  step,  until 
Vienna  itself  was  in  sight,  and  in  April  an  armistice  was 
signed.  In  May  the  French  took  possession  of  Venice, 
which  had  refused  a  French  alliance,  and  which  was  playing 
a  perfidious  ])art,  in  Bonaparte's  judgment,  and  a  republic 
on  the  French  model  was  established. 

Italy  and  Austria,  worn  out  and  discouraged  by  this  "  war 
of  principle,'*  as  Napoleon  called  it,  at  last  compromised, 
and  on  October  17th,  one  year,  seven  months,  and  seven 
days  after  he  left  Paris,  Napoleon  signed  the  treaty  of 
Campo  Formic).  By  this  treaty  France  gained  the  frontier 
of  the  Rhine  and  the  Low  Countries  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Scheldt.  Austria  was  given  Venice,  and  a  republic  called 
the  Cisalpine  was  formed  from  Reggio,  Modena,  Lombardy, 
and  a  part  of  the  States  of  the  Pope. 

The  military  genius  that  this  twenty-seven-year-old  com- 
mander had  shown  in  the  campaign  in  Italy  bewildered  his 
enemies  and  thrilled  his  friends. 

*'  Things  go  on  very  badly,"  said  an  Austrian  veteran 
taken  at  Lodi.  '*  No  one  seems  to  know  what  he  is  about. 
The  French  general  is  a  young  blockhead  who  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  regular  rules  of  war.  Sometimes  he  is  on  our 
right,  at  others  on  our  left ;  nov/  in  front,  and  presently  in 
our  rear.  This  mode  of  w^arfare  is  contrary  to  all  system, 
and  utterly  insufferable." 


It  is  certain  that  if  Napoleon's  opponents  never  knew  what 
he  was  going  to  do,  if  his  generals  themselves  were  fre- 
quently uncertain,  it  being  his  practice  to  hold  his  peace 
about  his  plans,  he  himself  had  definite  rules  of  warfare. 
The  most  important  of  these  were : 

"  Attacks  should  not  be  scattered,  but  should  be  concen- 

"  Always  be  superior  to  the  enemy  at  the  point  of  at- 

**  Time  is  everything." 

To  these  formulated  rules  he  joined  marvelous  fertility 
in  stratagem.  The  feint  by  which,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign,  he  had  enticed  Beaulieu  to  march  on  Genoa,  and 
that  by  which,  a  few  days  later,  he  had  induced  him  to 
place  his  army  near  Valenza,  were  masterpieces  in  their 

His  quick-wittedness  in  emergency  frequently  saved  him 
from  disaster.  Thus,  on  August  4th,  in  the  midst  of  the 
excitement  of  the  contest,  Bonaparte  went  to  Lonato  to  see 
what  troops  could  be  drawn  from  there.  On  entering  he 
was  greatly  surprised  to  receive  an  Austrian  parlemcntaire, 
who  called  on  the  commandant  of  Lonato  to  surrender,  be- 
cause the  French  were  surrounded.  Bonaparte  saw  at  once 
that  the  Austrians  could  be  nothing  but  a  division  which  had 
been  cut  off  and  was  seeking  escape ;  but  he  was  embarrassed, 
for  there  were  only  twelve  hundred  men  at  Lonato.  Sending 
for  the  man,  he  had  his  eyes  unbandaged,  and  told  him  that 
if  his  commander  had  the  presumption  to  capture  the  gen- 
eral-in-chief  of  the  army  of  Italy  he  might  advance;  that 
the  Austrian  division  ought  to  have  known  that  he  was  at 
Lonato  with  his  whole  army;  and  he  added  that  if  they  did 
not  lay  down  their  arms  in  eight  minutes  he  would  not 
spare  a  man.  This  audacity  saved  Bonaparte,  and  won  him 
four  thousand  prisoners  with  guns  and  cavalry. 


His  fertility  in  stratagem,  his  rapidity  of  action,  his  au- 
dacity in  attack,  bewildered  and  demoralized  the  enemy, 
but  it  raised  the  enthusiasm  of  his  imaginative  Southern 
troops  to  the  highest  pitch. 

He  insisted  in  this  campaign  on  one  other  rule :  **  Unity 
of  command  is  necessary  to  assure  success.'*  After  his  de- 
feat of  the  Piedmontese,  the  Directory  ordered  him.  May  7, 
1796,  to  divide  his  command  with  Kellermann.  Napoleon 
answered : 

"  I  believe  it  most  impolitic  to  divide  the  army  of  Italy  in  two  parts. 
It  is  quite  as  much  against  the  interests  of  the  republic  to  place  two 
different  generals  over  it.     .     .     . 

•*  A  single  general  is  not  only  necessary,  but  also  it  is  essential  that 
nothing  trouble  him  in  his  march  and  operations.  I  have  conducted 
this  campaign  without  consulting  any  one.  I  should  have  done  nothing 
of  value  if  I  had  been  obliged  to  reconcile  my  plans  with  those  of 
another.  I  have  gained  advantage  over  superior  forces  and  when 
stripped  of  everything  myself,  because  persuaded  that  your  confidence 
was  in  me.     My  action  has  been  as  prompt  as  my  thought. 

**  If  you  impose  hindrances  of  all  sorts  upon  me,  if  I  must  refer 
every  step  to  government  commissioners,  if  they  have  the  right  to  change 
my  movements,  of  taking  from  me  or  of  sending  me  troops,  expect  no 
more  of  any  value.  If  you  enfeeble  your  means  by  dividing  your  forces, 
if  you  break  the  unity  of  military  thought  in  Italy,  I  tell  you  sorrow- 
fully you  will  lose  the  happiest  opportunity  of  imposing  laws  on  Italy. 

•*  In  the  condition  of  the  affairs  of  the  republic  in  Italy,  it  is  indis- 
pensable that  you  have  a  general  that  has  your  entire  confidence.  If  it 
is  not  I.  I  am  sorry  for  it.  but  I  shall  redouble  my  zeal  to  merit  your 
esteem  in  the  post  you  confide  to  mc.  Each  one  has  his  own  way  of 
carrying  on  war.  General  Kellermann  has  more  experience  and  will 
do  it  better  than  I,  but  both  together  will  do  it  very  badly. 

**  I  can  only  render  the  services  essential  to  the  country  when  invested 
entirely  and  absolutely  with  your  confidence." 

He  remained  in  charge,  and  throughout  the  rest  of  the 
campaign  continued  to  act  more  and  more  independently  of 
the  Directory,  even  dictating  terms  of  peace  to  please  him- 

It  was  in  this  Italian  campaign  that  the  almost  super- 
stitious adoration  which  Napoleon's  soldiers  and  most  of  his 


generals  felt  for  him  began.  Brilliant  generalship  was  not 
the  only  reason  for  this.  It  was  due  largely  to  his  personal 
courage,  which  they  had  discovered  at  Lodi.  A  charge  had 
been  ordered  across  a  wooden  bridge  swept  by  thirty  pieces 
of  cannon,  and  beyond  was  the  Austrian  army.  The  men 
hesitated,  Napoleon  sprang  to  their  head  and  led  them  into 
the  thickest  of  the  fire.  From  that  day  he  was  known  among 
them  as  the  "  Little  Corporal.''  He  had  won  them  by  the 
quality  which  appeals  most  deeply  to  a  soldier  in  the  ranks — 
contempt  of  death.  Such  was  their  devotion  to  him  that 
they  gladly  exposed  their  lives  if  they  saw  him  in  danger. 
There  were  several  such  cases  in  the  battle  of  Areola.  The 
first  day,  when  Bonaparte  was  exposing  himself  in  an  ad- 
vance, his  aide-de-camp,  Colonel  Muiron,  saw  that  he  was 
in  imminent  danger.  Throwing  himself  before  Bonaparte, 
the  colonel  covered  him  with  his  body,  receiving  a  wound 
which  was  destined  for  the  general.  The  brave  fellow's 
blood  spurted  into  Bonaparte's  face.  He  literally  gave  his 
life  to  save  his  commander's.  The  same  day,  in  a  final  effort 
to  take  Areola,  Bonaparte  seized  a  flag,  rushed  on  the 
bridge,  and  planted  it  there.  His  column  reached  the  middle 
of  the  bridge,  but  there  it  was  broken  by  the  enemy's  flank- 
ing fire.  The  grenadiers  at  the  head,  finding  themselves 
deserted  by  the  rear,  were  compelled  to  retreat ;  but,  critical 
as  their  position  was,  they  refused  to  abandon  their  general. 
They  seized  him  by  his  arms,  by  his  clothes,  and  dragged 
him  with  them  through  shot  and  smoke.  When  one  fell  out 
wounded,  another  pressed  to  his  place.  Precipitated  into 
the  morass,  Bonaparte  sank.  The  enemy  were  surrounding 
him  when  the  grenadiers  perceived  his  danger.  A  cry  was 
raised,  **  Forward,  soldiers,  to  save  the  General ! "  and  im- 
mediately they  fell  upon  the  Austrians  with  such  fury  that 
they  drove  them  oflf,  dragged  out  their  hero,  and  bore  him  to 
a  safe  place. 


His  addresses  never  failed  to  stir  them  to  action  and  en- 
thusiasm. They  were  oratorical,  prophetic,  and  abounded 
in  phrases  which  the  soldiers  never  forgot.  Such  was  his 
address  at  Milan : 

"Soldiers!  you  have  precipitated  yourselves  like  a  torrent  from  the 
summit  of  the  Apennines;  you  have  driven  back  and  dispersed  all  that 
opposed  your  march.  Piedmont,  liberated  from  Austrian  tyranny,  has 
yielded  to  her  natural  sentiments  of  peace  and  amity  towards  France. 
Milan  is  yours,  and  the  Republican  flag  floats  throughout  Lombardy, 
while  the  Dukes  of  Modena  and  Parma  owe  their  political  existence 
solely  to  your  generosity.  The  army  which  so  haughtily  menaced  you, 
finds  no  barrier  to  secure  it  from  your  courage.  The  Po,  the  Ticino, 
and  the  Adda  have  been  unable  to  arrest  your  courage  for  a  single  day. 
Those  boasted  ramparts  of  Italy  proved  insufficient.  You  have  sur- 
mounted them  as  rapidly  as  you  cleared  the  Apennines.  So  much  suc- 
cess has  diffused  joy  through  the  bosom  of  your  country.  Yes,  soldiers, 
you  have  done  well;  but  is  there  nothing  more  for  you  to  accomplish? 
Shall  it  be  said  of  us  that  we  knew  how  to  conquer,  but  knew  not  how 
to  profit  by  victory?  Shall  posterity  reproach  us  with  having  found  a 
Capua  in  Lombardy?  But  I  see  you  rush  to  arms;  unmanly  repose 
wearies  you.  and  the  days  lost  to  glory  arc  lost  to  happiness. 

"  Let  us  set  forward.  We  have  still  forced  marches  to  perform, 
enemies  to  conquer,  laurels  to  gather,  and  injuries  to  avenge.  Let  those 
tremble  who  have  whetted  the  poniards  of  civil  war  in  France;  who 
have,  like  dastards,  assassinated  our  ministers,  and  burned  our  ships  in 
Toulon.  The  hour  of  vengeance  is  arrived,  but  let  the  people  be 
tranquil.  We  are  the  friends  of  all  nations,  particularly  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Brutuses.  the  Scipios,  and  those  illustrious  persons  we  have 
chosen  for  our  models.  To  restore  the  Capitol,  replace  with  honor  the 
statues  of  the  heroes  who  rendered  it  renowned,  and  rouse  the  Roman 
people,  become  torpid  by  so  many  ages  of  slavery — shall,  will,  be  the 
fruit  of  your  victories.  You  will  then  return  to  your  homes,  and  your 
fellow-citizens  when  pointing  to  you  will  say.  *  He  was  of  the  army  of 
Italy:  " 

Such  was  his  address  in  March,  before  the  final  campaign 
against  the  Austrians : 

"  You  have  been  victorious  in  fourteen  pitched  battles  and  sixty-six 
combats;  you  have  taken  one  hundred  thousand  prisoners,  five  hundred 
pieces  of  large  cannon  and  two  thousand  pieces  of  smaller,  four  equip- 
ages for  bridge  pontoons.    The  country  has  nourished  you.  paid  you 


during  your  campaign,  and  you  have  beside  that  sent  thirty  millions 
from  the  public  treasury  to  Paris.  You  have  enriched  the  Museum  of 
Paris  with  three  hundred  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  ancient  and  modern  Italy, 
which  it  has  taken  thirty  ages  to  produce.  You  have  conquered  the  most 
beautiful  country  of  Europe.  The  French  colors  float  for  the  first  time 
upon  the  borders  of  the  Adriatic.  The  kings  of  Sardinia  and  Naples, 
the  Pope,  the  Duke  of  Parma  have  become  allies.  You  have  chased 
the  English  from  Leghorn.  Genoa,  and  Corsica.  You  have  yet  to  march 
against  the  Emperor  of  Austria." 

His  approval  was  their  greatest  joy.  Let  him  speak  a 
word  of  praise  to  a  regiment,  and  they  embroidered  it  on 
their  banners.  **  I  was  at  ease,  the  Thirty-second  was 
there/'  was  on  the  flag  of  that  regiment.  Over  the  Fifty- 
seventh  floated  a  name  Napoleon  had  called  them  by,  "  The 
terrible  Fiftv-seventh.'* 

His  displeasure  was  a  greater  spur  than  his  approval.  He 
said  to  a  corps  which  had  retreated  in  disorder :  '*  Soldiers* 
you  have  displeased  me.  You  have  shown  neither  c(nirage 
nor  constancy,  but  have  yielded  positions  where  a  handful  of 
men  might  have  defied  an  army.  You  are  no  longer  French 
soldiers.  Let  it  be  written  on  their  colors,  *  They  no  longer 
form  part  of  the  Army  of  Italy.'  "  A  veteran  pleaded  that 
they  be  placed  in  the  van,  and  during  the  rest  of  the  cam- 
paign no  regiment  was  more  distinguished. 

The  effect  of  his  genius  was  as  great  on  his  generals  as  on 
his  troops.  They  were  dazzled  by  his  stratagems  and  man- 
oeuvres, inspired  by  his  imagination.  **  There  li'cu  so  miieh 
of  the  future  in  him,"  is  Marmont's  ex])ressive  explanation. 
They  could  believe  anything  of  him.  A  remarkable  set  of 
men  they  were  to  have  as  followers  and  friends — Augereau, 
Massena,  Berthier,  Marmont,  Junot. 

The  people  and  the  government  in  Paris  had  begun  to 
believe  in  him,  as  did  the  Army  of  Italy.  He  not  only  sent 
flags  and  reports  of  victory;  he  sent  money  and  works  of 
art.     Impoverished  as  the  Directory  was,  the  sums  which 


came  from  Italy  were  a  reason  for  not  interfering  with  the 
high  hand  the  young  general  carried  in  his  campaigns  and 

Never  before  had  France  received  such  letters  from  a 
general.  Now  he  announces  that  he  has  sent  **  twenty  first 
masters,  from  Correggio  to  Michael  Angelo ;  "  now,  *'  a 
dozen  millions  of  money ;  "  now,  two  or  three  millions  in 
jewels  and  diamonds  to  be  sold  in  I^aris.  In  return  he  asks 
onlv  for  men  and  officers  "  who  have  fire  and  a  firm  reso- 
lution  not  to  make  learned  retreats/' 

The  entry  into  Paris  of  the  first  art  accjuisitions  made  a 
profound  impression  on  the  people: 

*'  The  procession  of  enormous  c.irs.  drawn  by  richly  caparisoned 
horses,  wa*^  divided  into  four  sections.  First  came  trunks  filled  with 
books,  manuscripts.  .  .  .  including  the  antiques  of  Josephus.  on 
papyrus,  with  works  in  the  handwriting  of  Galileo.  .  .  .  Then  fol- 
lowed collections  of  mineral  products.  .  .  .  For  the  occasion  were 
added  wagons  laden  with  iron  cages  containing  lions,  tigers,  panthers, 
over  which  waved  enormous  palm  branches  and  all  kinds  of  exotic 
shrubs.  Afterward^  rolled  along  chariots  bearing  pictures  carefully 
packed,  but  with  the  names  nf  the  m<)>t  important  inscribed  in  large 
letters  on  the  outside,  as  The  Transfiguration  by  Raphael:  The  Christ, 
by  Titian.  The  number  was  great,  the  value  greater.  When  these 
trophies  had  passed,  amid  the  applause  of  an  excited  crowd,  a  heavy 
rumbling  announced  the  approach  of  massive  carts  bearing  statues  and 
marble  groups:  the  Apollo  Belvidere:  the  Nine  Muses;  the  Laocoon. 
.  .  .  The  Venus  de  Medici  was  eventually  added,  decked  with  bou- 
quets, crowns  of  flowers,  flags  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  French, 
Italian,  and  Greek  inscriptions.  Detachments  of  cavalry  and  infantry, 
colors  flying,  drums  beating,  music  playing,  marched  at  intervals;  the 
members  of  the  newly  established  Institute  fell  into  line;  artists  and 
savants;  and  the  singers  of  the  theatres  made  the  air  ring  with  na- 
tional hymns.  This  procession  marched  through  all  Paris,  and  at  the 
Champ  de  Mars  defiled  before  the  five  members  of  the  Directory,  sur- 
rounded by  their  subordinate  officers." 

The  practice  of  sending  home  works  of  art,  begim  in  the 
Italian  campaigii,  Napoleon  continued  throughout  his  mili- 
tary career,  and  the  art  of  France  owes  much  to  the  educa- 
tion  thus  given  the  artists  of  the  first  part  of  this  century. 


His  agents  ransacked  Italy,  Spain,  Germany,  and  Flan- 
ders for  chefs-d'oeuvre.  When  entering  a  country  one  of 
the  first  things  he  did  was  to  collect  information  about  its 
chief  art  objects,  in  order  to  demand  them  in  case  of  victory, 
for  it  was  by  treaty  that  they  were  usually  obtained. 
Among  the  works  of  art  which  Napoleon  sent  to  Paris  were 
twenty-five  Raphaels,  twenty-three  Titians,  fifty-three 
Rubenses,  thirty-three  Van  Dykes,  thirty-one  Rembrandts. 

In  Italy  rose  Napoleon's  "  star,"  that  mysterious  guide 
which  he  followed  from  Lodi  to  Waterloo.  Here  was  bom 
that  faith  in  him  and  his  future,  that  belief  that  he 
"  marched  under  the  protection  of  the  goddess  of  fortune 
and  of  war/'  that  confidence  that  he  was  endowed  with  a 
**  good  genius." 

He  called  Lx)di  the  birthplace  of  his  faith.  "  Ven- 
demiaire  and  even  Montenotte  did  not  make  me  believe  my- 
self a  superior  man.  It  was  only  after  Lodi  that  it  came 
into  mv  head  that  I  could  become  a  decisive  actor  on  our 
political  field.  Then  was  born  the  first  spark  of  high  ambi- 

Trained  in  a  religion  full  of  mysticism,  taught  to  believe 
in  signs,  guided  by  a  *'  star,"  there  is  a  tinge  of  superstition 
throughout  his  active,  practical,  hardworking  life.  Mar- 
mont  tells  that  one  day  while  in  Italy  the  glass  over  the  por- 
trait of  his  wife,  which  he  always  wore,  was  broken. 

*'  He  turned  frightfully  pale,  and  the  impression  upon 
him  was  most  sorrowful.  *  Marmont/  he  said,  *  my  wife 
is  very  ill  or  she  is  unfaithful.'  "  There  are  many  similar 
anecdotes  to  show  his  dependence  upon  and  confidence  in 

In  a  campaign  of  such  achievements  as  that  in  Italy  there 
seems  to  be  no  time  for  love,  and  yet  love  was  never  more 
imperative,  more  absorbing,  in  Napoleon's  life  than  during 
this  period. 

"Kngrai-ed  by  Henry  Kiclucr  (rum  ilic  ctlcbriicii 
liuat  I.V  Ci.Taicl.i,  Inlcly  liniiiiilil  fruni  1-arts  an.l 
in  Ms  iu>!^H-<.si,>n.  |-ii1>1ii>1ir.l  June  i.  iKoi.  >>y  II. 
Hiehler.  Xi.,   .-6  Xenmin  Sir.el,  CKf,.r,l  Slnil."    Tlii* 

1    K-nic. 


ion  in  lilt  tily.  and  went  1..  Paris.  m-Iick  he 
to  receive  ai<I  fri<m  the  I  irst  Consul.  He  matle 
at,  of  Ht'eral  tiencrals-  -llcrllncr.  MasMna.  and 
latle—hut  at  nnlers  did  not  mit1tii>1y,  and  N'a- 
Jid     nnttiins     for     iiim.     he     became     incenied 

I   plot 


"  Oh.  my  adorable  wife,"  he  wrote  Josephine  in  April,  **  I  do  not 
know  what  fate  awaits  me,  but  if  it  keeps  nie  longer  from  you,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  endure  it ;  my  courage  will  not  hold  out  to  that 
point.  There  was  a  time  when  I  was  proud  of  my  courage;  and  when 
I  thought  of  the  harm  that  men  might  do  me,  of  the  lot  that  my 
destiny  might  reserve  for  me,  I  looked  at  the  most  terrible  misfortunes 
without  a  quiver,  with  no  surprise.  But  now,  the  thought  that  my 
Josephine  may  be  in  trouble,  that  she  may  be  ill.  and,  above  all,  the 
cruel,  fatal  thought  that  .she  may  Iovjc  me  less,  inflicts  torture  in  my 
soul,  stops  the  beating  of  my  heart,  makes  me  .sad  and  dejected,  robs 
me  of  even  the  courage  of  fury  and  despair.  I  often  used  to  say. 
*  Man  can  do  no  harm  to  one  who  is  willing  to  die; '  but  now,  to  die 
without  being  loved  by  you.  to  die  without  this  certainty,  is  the  torture 
of  hell ;  it  is  the  vivid  and  cru.shing  image  of  total  annihilation.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  choking.  My  only  companion,  you  who  have 
been  chosen  by  fate  to  make  with  mc  the  painful  journey  of  life,  the 
day  when  I  .shall  no  longer  possess  your  heart  will  be  that  when  for 
me  the  world  shall  have  lost  all  warmth  and  all  its  vegetation.  .  .  . 
I  will  stop,  my  sweet  pet ;  my  soul  is  sad.  I  am  very  tired,  my  mind 
is  worn  out,  I  am  sick  of  men.  I  have  good  reason  for  hating  them. 
They  separate  me  fn^m  my  love." 

Josephine  was  indifferent  to  this  strong  passion.  **  How 
queer  Bonaparte  is ! ''  she  said  coldly  at  the  evidences  of  his 
affection  which  he  poured  upon  her;  and  when,  after  a  few 
weeks  separation,  lie  began  to  implore  her  to  j(^in  him  she 
hesitated,  made  excuses,  tried  in  every  possible  way  to  evade 
his  wish.  It  was  not  strange  that  a  woman  of  her  indolent 
nature,  loving  flattery,  having  no  passion  but  for  amuse- 
ment, reckless  expenditure,  and  her  own  ease,  should  prefer 
life  in  Paris.  There  she  shared  with  Madame  Tallien  the 
adoration  which  the  Parisian  world  is  always  bestowing  on 
some  fair  woman.  At  opera  and  ball  she  was  the  centre  of 
attraction;  even  in  the  street  the  people  knew  her.  Notre 
Dame  des  Victoires  was  the  name  they  gave  her. 

In  desperation  at  her  indifference.  Napoleon  finally  wrote 
her.  in  June,  from  Tortona : 

"  My   life   is   a   perpetual   nightmare.     A   black   presentiment   makes 
breathing  difficult.     I  am  no  longer  alive;  I  have  lost  more  than  life. 


Oiore  than  happiness,  more  than  peace ;  I  am  aim 
I  am  sending  you  a  courier.  He  will  stay  only  four  boors  ia  f^ns, 
and  then  mil  bring  nie  yvai  answer.  Write  to  me  loi  pagn ;  that  is 
the  only  thing  that  can  con<oli:  me  in  the  leasL  You  are  ill :  joa  knc 
me;  I  have  distressed  you:  you  are  with  child:  and  1  do  not  tec  j^ml. 
...  I  have  treated  you  m  ill  thai  I  do  net  kDcnt  bow  to  aa  nyMfi 
righi  in  yovT  ej-es.  I  have  been  blaming  jou  for  saying  ia  ^tm. 
and  yod  have  been  ill  there.  Forgive  me.  my  dear:  the  ki«e  ■fiib  wbidi 
TOO  have  filled  me  ha<  robbed  me  of  my  reaMin.  and  I  «haH  nerer  i^- 
cover  it.  It  is  a  malady  trom  which  there  i«  no  recotei?.  Uy  (vr- 
bodings  are  so  gloomy  that  all  1  ask  is  to  see  you.  lo  bolid  jia  ■■  ^r 
arms  for  two  hotirs.  and  that  we  may  die  together.  Wk>  b  takilV 
^uv  of  ytm  ?  I  suppose  that  you  have  scut  for  Horteose ;  1  love  ttae  4^ 
diU  a  ihoosand  ti«ac$  better  since  I  think  that  ^bc  may  txmxAt  jnm  S 
Eltle.  As  for  tnc.  I  am  w-ithout  consolation,  rest  and  bofic  sni  I  VK 
Bcain  the  mcsjenget  whcin  1  am  "Ending  to  yoo.  and  miil  yvm  i  i/twim  W< 
■K  in  a  long  letter  just  what  is  the  matter  with  yon.  and  bow  lulomt  ft 
is.  If  there  were  any  danger.  I  warn  yon  that  I  shotdd  start  at  CMM 
far  ftris.  -  .  .  You !  you ! — and  the  rest  of  the  wnrtd  wfl!  not  cxiS 
far  me  any  more  than  if  it  had  been  annihilated.  1  care  far  bnaorliK- 
^mae  yoo  care  for  it :  for  victory-,  becaasc  it  brings  yaa  pkasatc;  «dKr~ 
wiK  I  shoold  abandon  everything  to  ihiow  mrsrlf  at  yo«r  faa." 

After  this  letter  Josephine  consented  to  go  to  Italy,  but 
Ac  Wt  Paris  weeping  as  if  going  to  her  executioD.  Oooe 
at  Uilaii.  where  she  held  almost  a  cotirt.  she  reroA-ered  her 
piyriy.  and  the  two  were  very  happy  for  a  time.  Bm  it 
Ad  vat  last.  Napoleon.  obHged  to  be  on  the  mardi.  wcaM 
— T*— -  Josephine  to  come  to  him  here  and  there,  aotl  ooce 
riKoafTOM'ly  escaped  with  her  hfe  when  tr>-ing  to  get  away 
{nm  tbeanny. 

Wbere\er  she  was  installed  she  had  a  circle  ot  adorers 
ahpHt  bcr.  and  as  a  result  she  neglected  writing  to  bcr  hos- 
taad.  Reprrjacbes  and  entreaties  filled  his  letters  He 
lagged  bcr  for  only  a  line,  and  he  implored  ber  that  ^fae  be 

'  Yanr  itBm  are  ai  aid  ai  fifty  years  of  age ;  <mk  wonld  ftnk  tbc? 
bd  fcns  wrinai  after  we  had  been  married  fifteen  yiars.  Tfao  a:n 
Ml  ol  tbe  frvodline*?  and  feelings  of  life's  winter.  .  .  .  WbaK 
mart  can  yoo  do  to  diitnss  me?    Stop  loving  me?    Tbat  jm«  ksvc  al- 


ready  done.  Hate  me?  Well,  I  wish  you  would;  everything  degrades 
me  except  hatred;  but  indifference,  with  a  calm  pulse,  fixed  eyes, 
monotonous  walk!     ...     A  thousand  kisses,  tender,  like  my  heart.'' 

It  was  not  merely  indolence  and  indiflference  that  caused 
Josephine's  neglect.  It  was  coquetry  frequently,  and  Na- 
poleon, informed  by  his  couriers  as  to  whom  she  received 
at  Milan  or  Genoa,  and  of  the  pleasures  she  enjoyed,  was 
jealous  with  all  the  force  of  his  nature.  More  than  one 
young  officer  who  dared  pay  homage  to  Josephine  in  this  cam- 
paign was  banished  **  by  order  of  the  commander-in-chief." 
Reaching  Milan  once,  unexpectedly,  he  found  her  gone. 
His  disappointment  was  bitter. 

"  I  reached  Milan,  rushed  to  ycur  rooms,  having  thrown  up  every- 
thing to  see  you.  to  press  you  to  my  heart — you  were  not  there;  you 
arc  traveling  about  from  one  town  to  another,  amusing  yourself  with 
balls.  My  unhappiness  is  inconceivable.      .  Don't  put 

yourself  out;  pursue  your  pleasure;  happiness  is  made  for  you." 

It  was  between  such  extremes  of  triumphant  love  and 
black  despair  that  Napoleon  lived  throughout  the  Italian 

— ^ 

Engravcil   in   1S03  hy  Godefroy,  after   Isabel'. 

■di*  a  Madame  Bonaparte." 



THE   1 8th  BRUM  AIRE 

IN  December,  1797,  he  returned  to  Paris.  His  whole 
family  were  collected  there,  forming  a  **  Bonaparte 
colony,"  as  the  Parisians  called  it.  There  were  Joseph 
and  his  wife;  Lucien,  now  married  to  Christine  Boyer,  his 
old  landlord's  daughter,  a  marriage  Napoleon  never  for- 
gave; Eliza,  now  Madame  Bacciochi :  Pauline,  now  Madame 
Leclerc.  Madame  Letitia  was  in  the  city,  with  Caroline; 
Louis  and  Jerome  were  still  in  school.  Josephine  had  her 
daughter  Hortense,  a  girl  of  thirteen,  with  her.  Her  son 
Eugene,  though  but  fifteen  years  old,  was  away  on  a  mission 
for  Napoleon,  who,  in  spite  of  the  boy's  youth,  had  already 
taken  him  into  his  confidence.  According  to  Napoleon's  ex- 
press desire,  all  the  family  lived  in  great  simplicity. 

The  return  to  Paris  of  the  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Army  of  Italy  was  the  signal  for  a  popular  ovation.  The 
Directory  gave  him  every  honor,  changing  the  name  of  the 
street  in  which  he  lived  to  rue  dc  la  Victoirc,  and  making 
him  a  member  of  the  Institute;  but,  conscious  of  its  feeble- 
ness, and  inspired  by  that  suspicion  which  since  the  Revolu- 
tion began  had  caused  the  ruin  of  so  many  men,  it  planned 
to  get  rid  of  him. 

Of  the  coalition  against  France,  formed  in  1793,  one  mem- 
ber alone  remained  in  arms — England.  Napoleon  was  to  be 
sent  against  her.  An  invasion  of  the  island  was  first  dis- 
cussed, and  he  made  an  examination  of  the  north  coast. 



His  report  was  adverse,  and  he  substituted  a  plan  for  the  in- 
vasion of  Egypt — an  old  idea  in  the  French  government. 

The  Directory  gladly  accepted  the  change,  and  Napoleon 
was  made  commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  Egypt.  On 
the  4th  of  May  he  left  Paris  for  Toulon. 

To  Napoleon  this  expedition  was  a  merciful  escape.  He 
once  said  to  Madame  Remusat : 

"  In  Paris,  and  Paris  is  France,  they  never  can  take  the  smallest  in- 
terest in  things,  if  they  do  not  take  it  in  persons.  .  .  .  The  great 
difficulty  of  the  Directory  was  that  no  one  cared  about  them,  and  that 
people  began  to  care  too  much  about  me.  This  was  why  I  conceived 
the  happy  idea  of  going  to  Egypt." 

He  was  under  the  influence,  too,  of  his  imagination ;  the 
Orient  had  always  tempted  him.  It  is  certain  that  he  went 
away  with  gigantic  projects — nothing  less  than  to  conquer 
the  whole  of  the  East,  and  to  become  its  ruler  and  lawgiver. 

"  I  dreamed  of  all  sorts  of  things,  and  I  saw  a  way  of  carrying  all 
my  projects  into  practical  execution.  I  would  create  a  new  religion. 
I  saw  myself  in  Asia,  upon  an  elephant,  wearing  a  turban,  and  hold- 
ing in  my  hand  a  new  Koran  which  I  had  myself  composed.  I  would 
have  united  in  my  enterprise  the  experiences  of  two  hemispheres,  ex- 
ploring for  my  benefit  and  instruction  all  history,  attacking  the  power 
of  England  in  the  Indies,  and  renewing,  by  their  conquest,  my  rela- 
tions with  old  Europe.  The  time  I  passed  in  Egypt  was  the  most 
delightful  period  of  my  life,  for  it  was  the  most  ideal." 

His  friends,  watching  his  irritation  during  the  days  be- 
fore the  campaign  had  been  decided  upon,  said :  **  A  free 
flight  in  space  is  what  such  wings  demand.  He  will  die  here. 
He  must  go."  He  himself  said :  "  Paris  weighs  on  me  like 
a  leaden  mantle.'' 

Napoleon  sailed  from  France  on  May  19,  1798;  on  June 
9th  he  reached  Malta,  and  won  for  France  **  the  strongest 
place  in  Europe."  July  2d  he  entered  Alexandria.  On 
July  23d  he  entered  Cairo,  after  the  famous  battle  of  the 


The  French  fleet  h^d  remained  in  Aboukir  Bay  after  land- 
ing the  army,  and  on  August  ist  was  attacked  by  Nelson. 
Napoleon  had  not  realized,  before  this  battle,  the  power  of 
the  English  on  the  sea.  He  knew  nothing  of  Nelson*s 
genius.  The  destruction  of  his  fleet,  and  the  consciousness 
that  he  and  his  army  were  prisoners  in  the  Orient,  opened 
his  eyes  to  the  greatest  weakness  of  France. 

The  winter  was  spent  in  reorganizing  the  government  of 
Egypt  and  in  scientific  work.  Over  one  hundred  scientists 
had  been  added  to  the  Army  of  Egypt,  including  some  of 
the  most  eminent  men  of  the  day :  Monge,  Geoflfroy-St.-Hi- 
laire,  Berthollet,  Fourier,  and  Denon.  From  their  arrival 
every  opportunity  was  given  them  to  carry  on  their  work. 
To  stimulate  them.  Napoleon  founded  the  Institute  of  Egypt, 
in  which  membership  was  granted  as  a  reward  for  serv- 

These  scientists  went  out  in  every  direction,  pushing  their 
investigations  up  the  Nile  as  far  as  Philoe,  tracing  the  bed 
of  the  old  canal  from  Suez  to  the  Nile,  unearthing  ancient 
monuments,  making  collections  of  the  flora  and  fauna,  ex- 
amining in  detail  the  arts  and  industries  of  the  people.  Every- 
thing, from  the  inscription  on  the  Rosetta  Stone  to  the  in- 
cubation of  chickens,  received  their  attention.  On  the  re- 
turn of  the  expedition,  their  researches  were  published  in  a 
magnificent  work  called  **  Description  de  TEgypte."  The 
information  gathered  by  the  French  at  this  time  gave  a 
great  impetus  to  the  study  of  Egyptology,  and  their  in- 
vestigations on  the  old  Suez  canal  led  directly  to  the  modern 

The  peaceful  work  of  science  and  law-giving  which  Na- 
poleon was  conducting  in  Egypt  was  interrupted  by  the 
news  that  the  Porte  had  declared  war  against  France,  and 
that  two  Turkish  armies  were  on  their  way  to  Egypt.  In 
March  he  set  off  to  Syria  to  meet  the  first. 

ie  summit  of  Ihrsc  Pynmiils  forty 
you."  In  the  General's  fscorl  an  Murat.  his  head 
tightly;  and  aflfr  him,  in  ordci,  Duroc.  Sulkowski. 
le  de  neauhamai>.  then  siib-Ueutenant.  all  on  horn- 

Kv»  ii  to  "nc  of  his  Bcocrals.  and  it  did  not  reappear  in  Pari*  until    1B3J. 
IS  no«'  in  the  mlliry  at  Vereailles.     Groa  regsrded  thii  picture  as  hia  be«t 

ending  in  a  retreat 
in  tlie  rear,  hut  by 

I  for  Xapolemi.     It 

[|   realm   for  himself,   of  a 

tcrranean  fur  France. 

tl'Acre,"  he  told  his  brother 

"  1   think   my   imagination 

[le  words  are  those  of  the  man 

'Hire  was  a*  profound  as  his 

from  Syria,  he  learned  that 

near  the  Bay  of  Alxmkir.     He 

Hted  it  completely.     In  the  ex- 

nftcr   the  battle,   a   bundle  of 

-   liands.     It   was  the  first  news 

:  .  I  -  from  France,  and  sad  news  it 

n    snv.isiun    of    Austrians  and  Russians 

iii'i-iiiry  discredited  and  tottering, 

empire   of   his   imagination   had    fallen, 

in  Fnrope  a  kingdom  awaited  him?    He 

Igypt  at  nnce,  and  with  the  greatest  secrecy 

dq)arture.     The  army  was  turned  over  to 

illi   four  small  vessels  he  sailed  for  France 

August  22,  1799.    On  October  l6th  he  was 

Wdng  time  nothing  had  been  heard  of  Xajwlenn  in 

The  people  said  he  had  been  eNiled  by  the  jealous 

His  disappearance  into  the  Orient  had  all  the 

r  and  fascination  of  an  Eastern  tale.     His  sudden 

SSrance  had  something  of  the  heroic  in  it.     He  came 

j,  god  from  Olympus,  unheralded,  but  at  the  critical 

'  it. 

joy  of  the  people,  who  at  that  day  certainty  preferred 


a  hero  to  suffrage,  was  spontaneous  and  sincere.  His 
journey  from  the  coast  to  Paris  was  a  triumphal  march. 
Lc  rctour  dti  heros  was  the  word  in  everybody's  mouth.  On 
every  side  the  people  cried :  **  You  alone  can  save  the  coun- 
try. It  is  perishing  without  you.  Take  the  reins  of  govern- 

At  Paris  he  found  the  government  waiting  to  be  over- 
thrown. **  A  brain  and  a  sword  ''  was  all  that  was  needed 
to  carry  out  a  coup  cVetat  organized  while  he  was  still  in 
Africa.  Everybody  recognized  him  as  the  man  for  the  hour. 
A  large  part  of  the  military  force  in  Paris  was  devoted  to 
him.  His  two  brothers,  Lucien  and  Joseph,  were  in  posi- 
tions of  influence,  the  former  president  of  the  Five  Hundred, 
as  one  of  the  two  chambers  was  called.  All  that  was  most 
distinguished  in  the  political,  military,  legal,  and  artistic 
circles  of  Paris  rallied  to  him.  Among  the  men  who  sup- 
ported him  were  Talleyrand,  Sieves,  Chenier,  Roederer, 
Monge,  Cambaceres,  Moreau,  Berthier,  Murat. 

On  the  i8th  Brumaire  (the  9th  of  November),  1799,  ^^e 
plot  culminated,  and  Napoleon  was  recognized  as  the  tem- 
porary Dictator  of  France. 

The  private  sorrow  to  which  Napoleon  returned,  was  as 
great  as  the  public  glory.  During  the  campaign  in  Egypt 
he  had  learned  beyond  a  doubt  that  Josephine's  coquetry  had 
become  open  folly,  and  that  a  young  officer,  Hippolyte 
Charles,  whom  he  had  dismissed  from  the  Army  of  Italy 
two  years  before,  was  installed  at  Malmaison.  The  liaison 
was  so  scandalous  that  Gohier,  the  president  of  the  Direc- 
tory, advised  Josephine  to  get  a  divorce  from  Napoleon  and 
marry  Charles. 

These  rumors  reached  Egypt,  and  Napoleon,  in  despair, 
even  talked  them  over  with  Eugene  de  Beauharnais.  The 
boy  defended  his  mother,  and  for  a  time  succeeded  in  quiet- 
ing Napoleon's  resentment.     At  last,  however,  he  learned 


in  a  talk  with  Junot  that  the  gossip  was  true.  He  lost  all 
control  of  himself,  and  declared  he  would  have  a  divorce. 
The  idea  was  abandoned,  but  the  love  and  reverence  he  had 
given  Josephine  were  dead.  From  that  time  she  had  no 
empire  over  his  heart,  no  power  to  inspire  him  to  action  or 
to  enthusiasm. 

When  he  landed  in  France  from  Egypt,  Josephine,  fore- 
seeing a  storm,  started  out  to  meet  him  at  Lyons.  Unfor- 
tunately she  took  one  road  and  Napoleon  another,  and  when 
he  reached  Paris  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  found  no 
one  at  home.  When  Josephine  arrived  Napoleon  refused 
to  see  her,  and  it  was  three  days  before  he  relented.  Then 
his  forgiveness  was  due  to  the  intercession  of  Hortense 
and  Eugene,  to  both  of  whom  he  was  warmly  attached. 

But  if  he  consented  to  pardon,  he  could  never  give  again 
the  passionate  affection  which  he  once  had  felt  for  her.  He 
ceased  to  be  a  lover,  and  iDCcame  a  commonplace,  tolerant, 
indulgent,  bourgeois  husband,  upon  whom  his  wife,  in 
matters  of  importance,  had  no  influence.  Josephine  was 
hereafter  the  suppliant,  but  she  never  regained  the  noble 
kingdom  she  had  despised. 

Napoleon's  domestic  sorrow  weakened  in  no  way  his 
activity  and  vigor  in  public  affairs.  He  realized  that,  if 
he  would  keep  his  place  in  the  hearts  and  confidence  of  the 
people,  he  must  do  something  to  show  his  strength,  and 
peace  was  the  gift  he  proposed  to  make  to  the  nation. 
When  he  returned  he  found  a  civil  war  raging  in  La 
Vendee.  Before  February  he  had  ended  it.  All  over 
France  brigandage  had  made  life  and  property  uncertain.  It 
was  stopped  by  his  new  regime. 

Two  foreign  enemies  only  remained  at  war  with  France 
— Austria  and  England.  He  offered  them  peace.  It  was 
refused.  Nothing  remained  but  to  compel  it.  The  Aus- 
trians  were  first  engaged.    They  had  two  armies  in  the  field ; 


TK,«      O,      TH.     COVNC.     OP      ST.T 

,.  ^..t>C.     O-     T„.     P«>T 

By    A. 

aii«tp    ron.icr.      Th€    CouneiUors 

of    Slite 

havinR   assembled    in    the 

hall   v.±K 

harf  h«n  arranB«i   for  .he  c«:c 

First   riinsul  o|«ned  the 

cl    h«[d   the   oath   taken    by   Ihe 


t      (nnanc«).     (rtnteaume 


Roedrrer    (interior).      The    first 


drew   up    ind    lisned    Iwo 


ons.  to  the    Fvench  iwople  jnd 

o  the  3 

my.     The   Second   Consul. 


*s,    »nd    the    Third    Consul.    Uhr 

present    at    the    meetio«. 

Locri.  K 

rUcirt-gfnfral  d»   Co^^^il  d-Etai 


ed   Ibe  protlslcrbal.     Thim 


one  on  the  Rhine,  against  which  Moreau  was  sent,  the 
other  in  Italy — now  lost  to  France — besieging  the  French 
shut  up  in  Genoa. 

Moreau  conducted  the  cami)aign  in  the  Rhine  countries 
with  skill,  fighting  two  successful  battles,  and  driving  his 
opponent  from  Ulm. 

Napoleon  decided  that  he  would  himself  carry  on  the 
Italian  campaign,  but  of  that  he  said  nothing  in  Paris.  His 
army  was  quietly  brought  together  as  a  reserve  force ;  then 
suddenlv,  on  ^lav  6,  1800,  he  left  Paris  for  Geneva.  Im- 
mediately  his  plan  became  evident.  It  was  nothing  else  than 
to  cross  the  Ali)s  and  fall  upon  the  rear  of  the  Austrians, 
then  besieging  Genoa. 

Such  an  undertaking  was  a  verital  le  coup  dc  theatre.  Its 
accomplishment  was  not  less  brilliant  than  its  conception. 
Three  princij)al  passes  lead  from  Switzerland  into  Italy: 
Mont  Cenis,  the  Great  Saint  Bernard,  and  the  Mount  Saint 
Gothard.  The  last  was  alreadv  held  bv  the  Austrians.  The 
first  is  the  westernmost,  and  here  Napoleon  directed  the 
attention  of  General  ^lelas,  the  Austrian  commander.  The 
central,  or  Mount  Saint  Bernard,  Pass  was  left  almost  de- 
fenceless, and  here  the  French  army  was  led  across,  a  passage 
surrounded  by  enormous  difficulties,  particularly  for  the 
artillery,  which  had  to  be  taken  to  pieces  and  carried  or 
dragged  by  the  men. 

Save  the  delav  which  the  enemv  caused  the  French  at 
Fort  Bard,  where  five  hundred  men  stopped  the  entire  army. 
Napoleon  met  with  no  serious  resistance  in  entering  Italy. 
Indeed,  the  Austrians  treated  the  fierce  with  contempt,  de- 
claring that  it  was  not  the  First  Consul  who  led  it,  but  an 
adventurer,  and  that  the  army  was  not  made  up  of  French, 
but  of  refugee  Italians. 

This  rumor  was  soon  known  to  be  false.  On  June  2d  Na- 
poleon entered  Milan.    It  was  evident  that  a  conflict  was  im- 


minent,  and  to  prepare  his  soldiers  Bonaparte  addressed 

"Soldiers,  one  of  our  departments  was  in  the  power  of  the  enemy; 
consternation  was  in  the  south  of  France;  the  greatest  part  of  the 
Ligurian  territory,  the  most  faithful  friends  of  the  Republic,  had  been 
invaded.  The  Cisalpine  Republic  had  again  become  the  grotesque  play- 
thing of  the  feudal  regime.  Soldiers,  you  march. — and  already  the 
French  territory  is  delivered !  Joy  and  hope  have  succeeded  in  your 
country  to  consternation  and  fear. 

**  You  give  back  liberty  and  independence  to  the  people  of  Genoa. 
You  have  delivered  them  from  their  eternal  enemies.  You  are  in  the 
capital  of  the  Cisalpine.  The  enemy,  terrified,  no  longer  hopes  for 
anything,  except  to  regain  its  frontiers.  You  have  taken  possession 
of  its  hospitals,  its  magazines,  its  resources. 

**  The  first  act  of  the  campaign  is  terminated.  Every  day  you  hear 
millions  of  men  thanking  you  for  your  deeds. 

**  But  shall  it  be  said  that  French  territorj-  has  been  violated  with 
impunity?  Shall  we  allow  an  army  which  has  carried  fear  into  our 
families  to  return  to  its  firesides?  Will  you  nm  with  your  arms? 
Very  well,  march  to  the  battle ;  forbid  their  retreat ;  tear  from  them 
the  laurels  of  which  they  have  taken  possession ;  and  so  teach  the  world 
that  the  curse  of  destiny  is  on  the  rash  who  dare  insult  the  territory 
of  the  Great  People.  The  result  of  all  our  efforts  will  be  spotless  glory, 
solid  peace." 

Melas,  the  Austrian  commander,  had  lost  much  time;  but 
finally  convinced  that  it  was  really  Bonaparte  who  had  in- 
vaded Italy,  and  that  he  had  actually  reached  Milan,  he  ad- 
vanced into  the  plain  of  Marengo.  He  had  with  him  an 
army  of  from  fifty  to  sixty  thousand  men  well  supplied  with 

Bonaparte,  ignorant  that  so  large  a  force  was  at  Marengo, 
advanced  into  the  plain  with  only  a  portion  of  his  army. 
On  June  14th  Melas  attacked  him.  Before  noon  the  French 
saw  that  they  had  to  do  WMth  the  entire  Austrian  army.  For 
hours  the  battle  was  waged  furiously,  but  with  constant 
loss  on  the  side  of  the  French.  In  spite  of  the  most  intrepid 
fighting  the  army  gave  way.  "  At  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon/' says  a  soldier  who  was  present,  **  there  remained  in 


a  radius  of  two  leagues  not  over  six  thousand  infantry,  a 
thousand  horse,  and  six  pieces  of  cannon.  A  third  of  our 
army  was  not  in  condition  for  battle.  The  lack  of  carriages 
to  transport  the  sick  made  another  third  necessary  for  this 
painful  task.  Hunger,  thirst,  fatigue,  had  forced  a  great 
number  to  withdraw.  The  sharp  shooters  for  the  most  part 
had  lost  the  direction  of  their  regiments. 

"  He  who  in  these  frightful  circumstances  would  have 
said,  '  In  two  hours  we  shall  have  gained  the  battle,  made 
ten  thousand  prisoners,  taken  several  generals,  fifteen  flags, 
forty  cannons;  the  enemy  shall  have  delivered  to  us  eleven 
fortified  places  and  all  the  territory  of  beautiful  Italy;  they 
will  soon  defile  shamefaced  before  our  ranks;  an  armistice 
will  suspend  the  plague  of  war  and  bring  back  peace  into 
our  country,' — he,  I  say,  who  would  have  said  that,  would 
have  seemed  to  insult  our  desperate  situation." 

The  battle  was  won  finally  by  the  French  through  the 
fortunate  arrival  of  Desaix  with  reenforcements  and  the 
imperturbable  courage  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Bona- 
parte's coolness  was  the  marvel  of  those  who  surrounded 

"  At  the  moment  when  the  dead  and  the  dying  covered 
the  earth,  the  Consul  was  constantly  braving  death.  He 
gave  his  orders  with  his  accustomed  coolness,  and  saw  the 
storm  approach  without  seeming  to  fear  it.  Those  who  saw 
him,  forgetting  the  danger  that  menaced  them,  said :  *  What 
if  he  should  be  killed?  Why  does  he  not  go  back? '  It  is 
said  that  General  Berthier  begged  him  to  do  so. 

"  Once  General  Berthier  came  to  him  to  tell  him  that  the 
army  was  giving  w^ay  and  that  the  retreat  had  commenced. 
Bonaparte  said  to  him :  *  General,  you  do  not  tell  me  that 
with  sufficient  coolness.'  This  greatness  of  soul,  this  firm- 
ness, did  not  leave  him  in  the  greatest  dangers.  When 
the  Fifty-ninth  Brigade  reached  the  battle-field  the  action 

End.ravwl   by    Antonio   Gilbrrl 
of  France,  Viteroy  of  ^Itsly.     It" 

eagerly.     He  alked  t 

.      No  one  iar«  whelhe      ■ 

II  it  enouKl.  that  their  aeniui  shines  from  1.. 

have  never  coniidered  it  in  tliaC  way.  But  you  are  right,  Citicen 
I.  You  need  not  pose:  r  will  paint  you  without  that."  Dayid  w —  - 
ast  daily  after  this  with  Napoleon,  in  order  to  study  his  (ace,  a 


was  the  hottest.  The  First  Consul  advanced  toward  them 
and  cried :  *  Come,  my  brave  soldiers,  spread  your  banners ; 
the  moment  has  come  to  distinguish  yourselves.  I  count 
on  your  courage  to  avenge  your  comrades."  At  the  mo- 
ment that  he  pronounced  these  words,  five  men  were  struck 
down  near  him.  He  turned  w^ith  a  tranquil  air  towards  the 
enemy,  and  said:  *  Come,  my  friends,  charge  them.' 

"  I  had  curiosity  enough  to  listen  attentively  to  his  voice, 
to  examine  his  features.  The  most  courageous  man,  the 
hero  the  most  eager  for  glory,  might  have  been  overcome 
in  his  situation  without  any  one  blaming  him.  But  he  was 
not.  In  these  frightful  moments,  when  fortune  seemed  to 
desert  him,  he  was  still  the  Bonaparte  of  Areola  and 

When  Desaix  came  up  with  his  division,  Bonaparte  took 
an  hour  to  arrange  for  the  final  charge.  During  this  time 
the  Austrian  artillery  was  thundering  upon  the  army,  each 
volley  carrying  away  whole  lines.  The  men  received  death 
without  moving  from  their  places,  and  the  ranks  closed 
over  the  bodies  of  their  comrades.  This  deadly  artillery  even 
reached  the  cavalry,  drawn  up  behind,  as  well  as  a  large 
number  of  infantry  who,  encouraged  by  Desaix's  arrival, 
had. hastened  back  to  the  field  of  honor.  In  spite  of  the 
horror  of  this  preparation  Bonaparte  did  not  falter.  When 
he  was  ready  he  led  his  army  in  an  impetuous  charge  which 
overwhelmed  the  Austrians  completely,  though  it  cost  the 
French  one  of  their  bravest  generals,  Desaix.  It  was  a 
frightful  struggle,  but  the  perfection  with  which  the  final 
attack  was  planned,  won  the  battle  of  Marengo  and  drove 
the  Austrians  from  Italy. 

The  Parisians  were  dazzled  by  the  campaign.  Of  the 
passage  of  the  Alps  they  said,  **  It  is  an  achievement  greater 
than  Hannibars;  '*  and  they  repeated  how  *'  the  First  Consul 
had  pointed  his  finger  at  the  frozen  summits,  and  they  had 
bowed  their  heads.''     At  the  news  of  Marengo  the  streets 

Engraved  by  G.   FissinBtr.  afitr  portrait   by  Gu*i 


were  lit  with  **  joy  fires,"  and  from  wall  to  wall  rang  the 
cries  of  Vive  la  republique!  Vive  Ic  premier  consul!  Vive 

The  campaign  against  the  Austrians  was  finished  De- 
cember 3,  1800,  by  the  battle  of  Hohenlinden,  won  by  Mo- 
reau,  and  in  February  the  treaty  of  Luneville  established 
peace.  England  was  slower  in  coming  to  terms,  it  not  being 
until  March,  1802,  tha!t  she  signed  the  treaty  of  Amiens. 

At  last  France  was  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  She 
hailed  Napoleon  as  her  savior,  and  ordered  that  the  18th 
Brumaire  be  celebrated  throughout  the  republic  as  a  solemn 
fete  in  his  honor. 

The  country  saw  in  him  something  greater  than  a  peace- 
maker. She  was  discovering  that  he  was  to  be  her  law  giver, 
for,  while  ending  the  wars,  he  had  begun  to  bring  order  into 
the  interior  chaos  which  had  so  long  tormented  the  French 
people,  to  reestablish  the  finances,  the  laws,  the  industries, 
to  restore  public  works,  to  encourage  the  arts  and  sciences, 
even  to  harmonize  the  interests  of  rich  and  poor,  of  church 
and  state. 




OW  we  must  rebuild,  and,  moreover,  we  must  re- 
build solidly,''  said  Napoleon  to  his  brother  Lucien 
the  day  after  the  coup  d'etat  which  had  over- 
thrown the  Directory  and  made  him  the  temporary  Dictator 
of  France. 

The  first  necessity  was  a  new  constitution.  In  ten  years 
three  constitutions  had  been  framed  and  adopted,  and  now 
the  third  had,  like  its  predecessors,  been  declared  worthless. 
At  Napoleon's  side  was  a  man  who  had  the  draft  of  a  con- 
stitution ready  in  his  pocket.  It  had  been  promised  him  that, 
if  he  would  aid  in  the  i8th  Brumaire,  this  instrument  should 
be  adopted.  This  man  was  the  Abbe  Sieyes.  He  had  been 
a  prominent  member  of  the  Constituent  Assembly,  but, 
curiously  enough,  his  fame  there  had  been  founded  more  on 
his  silence  and  the  air  of  mystery  in  which  he  enveloped 
himself  than  on  anything  he  had  done.  The  superstitious 
veneration  which  he  had  won,  saved  him  even  during  the 
Terror,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  say  laconically,  when 
asked  what  he  did  in  that  period.  "  I  lived." 

It  was  he  who,  when  Napoleon  was  still  in  Egypt,  had 
seen  the  necessity  of  a  military  dictatorship,  and  had  urged 
the  Directory  to  order  Napoleon  home  to  help  him  re- 
organize the  government — an  order  which  was  never  re- 

Soon  after  the  i8th  Brumaire,  Sieyes  presented  his  con- 



stitution.  No  more  bungling  and  bizarre  instrument  for 
conducting  the  affairs  of  a  nation  was  ever  devised.  Warned 
by  the  experience  of  the  past  ten  years,  he  abandoned  the 
ideas  of  1789,  and  declared  that  the  power  must  come  from 
above,  the  confidence  from  below.  His  system  of  voting 
took  the  suffrage  from  the  people;  his  legislative  body  was 
composed  of  three  sections,  each  of  which  was  practically 
powerless.  All  the  force  of  the  government  was  centered 
in  a  senate  of  aged  men.  The  Grand  Elector,  as  the  figure- 
head which  crowned  the  edifice  was  called,  did  nothing  but 
live  at  Versailles  and  draw  a  princely  salary. 

Napoleon  saw  at  once  the  weak  points  of  the  structure, 
but  he  saw  how  it  could  be  re-arranged  to  serve  a  dictator. 
He  demanded  that  the  Senate  be  stripped  of  its  power,  and 
that  the  Grand  Elector  be  replaced  by  a  First  Consul,  to 
whom  the  executive  force  should  be  confided.  Sieves  con- 
sented,  and  Napoleon  was  named  First  Consul. 

The  whole  machinery  of  the  government  was  now  cen- 
tred in  one  man.  **  The  state,  it  was  I,"  said  Napoleon  at 
St.  Helena.  The  new  constitution  was  founded  on  prin- 
ciples the  very  opposite  of  those  for  which  the  Revolution 
had  been  made,  but  it  was  the  only  hope  there  was  of  drag- 
ging France  from  the  slough  of  anarchy  and  despair  into 
which  she  had  fallen. 

Napoleon  undertook  the  work  of  reconstruction  which 
awaited  him,  with  courage,  energy,  and  amazing  audacity. 
He  was  forced  to  deal  at  once  with  all  departments  of  the 
nation's  life — with  the  finances,  the  industries,  the  emigres, 
the  Church,  public  education,  the  codification  of  the  laws. 

The  first  question  was  one  of  money.  The  country  was 
literally  bankrupt  in  1799.  The  treasury  was  empty,  and 
the  government  practised  all  sorts  of  makeshifts  to  get 
money  to  pay  those  bills  which  could  not  be  put  off.  One 
day,  having  to  send  out  a  special  courier,  it  was  obliged  to 


give  him  the  receipts  of  the  opera  to  pay  his  expenses.  And, 
again,  it  was  in  such  a  tight  pinch  that  it  was  on  the  point 
of  sending  the  gold  coin  in  the  Cabinet  of  Medals  to  the 
mint  to  be  melted.  Loans  could  not  be  negotiated ;  govern- 
ment paper  was  worthless ;  stocks  were  down  to  the  lowest. 
One  of  the  worst  features  of  the  situation  was  the  condition 
of  the  taxes.  The  assessments  were  as  arbitrary  as  before 
the  Revolution,  and  they  were  collected  with  greater  diffi- 

To  select  an  honest,  capable,  and  well-known  financier 
was  Napoleon's  first  act.  The  choice  he  made  was  wise — a 
Monsieur  Gaudin,  afterward  the  Duke  de  Gaete,  a  quiet 
man,  who  had  the  confidence  of  the  people.  Under  his  man- 
agement credit  was  restored,  the  government  was  able  to 
make  the  loans  necessary,  and  the  department  of  finance 
was  reorganized  in  a  thorough  fashion.  Napoleon's  grati- 
tude to  Monsieur  Gaudin  was  lasting.  Once  when  asked  to 
change  him  for  a  more  brilliant  man,  he  said : 

**  I  fully  acknowledge  all  your  protege  is  worth ;  but  it 
might  easily  happen  that,  with  all  his  intelligence,  he  would 
give  me  nothing  but  fresh  water,  whilst  with  my  good 
Gaudin  I  can  always  rely  on  having  good  crown  pieces." 

The  famous  Bank  of  France  dates  from  this  time.  It 
was  founded  under  Napoleon's  personal  direction,  and  he 
never  ceased  to  watch  over  it  jealously. 

Most  important  of  all  the  financial  measures  was  the  re- 
organization of  the  system  of  taxation.  The  First  Consul 
insisted  that  the  taxes  must  meet  the  whole  expense  of  the 
nation,  save  war,  which  must  pay  for  itself;  and  he  so 
ordered  affairs  that  never,  after  his  administration  was  fairly 
begun,  was  a  deficit  known  or  a  loan  made.  This  was  done, 
too,  without  the  people  feeling  the  burden  of  taxation.  In- 
deed, that  burden  was  so  much  lighter  under  his  administra- 
tion that  it  had  been  under  the  old  regime,  that  peasant 

light  and  shade 

»e    hard    fealures    made    prominent    by    itrong    contruu   of 
liese  checks  aa  hollau-  as  Ihe  interior  angle  of  the  eye;  these 

M  (treat,  clear   eyes  deeply  »«t   under  the  overarching  eye- 
incomprehensible  took,  sharp  as  a  sword:  these  two  alraighl 
3SS  the  forehead   from  the  bue  of  the  nose  lilce  >  fumw 
■  and   infleiible  will." 


and  workman,  in  most  cases,  probably  did  not  know  they 
were  being  taxed. 

"  Before  1789,"  says  Taine,  **  out  of  one  hundred  francs 
of  net  revenue,  the  workman  gave  fourteen  to  his  seignor, 
fourteen  to  the  clergy,  fifty-three  to  the  state,  and  kept  only 
eighteen  or  nineteen  for  himself.  Since  1800,  from  one 
hundred  francs  income  he  pays  nothing  to  the  seignor  or  the 
Church,  and  he  pays  to  the  state,  the  department,  and  the 
commune  but  twenty-one  francs,  leaving  seventy-nine  in 
his  pocket."  And  such  was  the  method  and  care  with  which 
this  system  was  administered,  that  the  state  received  more 
than  twice  as  much  as  it  had  before.  The  enormous  sums 
which  the  police  and  tax-collectors  had  appropriated  now 
went  to  the  state.  Here  is  but  one  example  of  numbers 
which  show  how  minutely  Napoleon  guarded  this  part  of  the 
finances.  It  is  found  in  a  letter  to  Fouche,  the  chief  of 
police : 

"•What  happens  at  Bordeaux  happens  at  Turin,  at  Spa.  at  Marseilles, 
etc.  The  police  commissioners  derive  immense  profits  from  the  gam- 
ing-tables. My  intention  is  that  the  towns  shall  reap  the  benefit  of 
the  tables.  I  shall  employ  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs  paid  by 
the  tables  of  Bordeaux  in  building  a  bridge  or  a  canal.    .     .     ." 

A  great  improvement  was  that  the  taxes  became  fixed 
and  regular.  Napoleon  wished  that  each  man  should  know 
what  he  had  to  pay  out  each  year.  **  True  civil  liberty  de- 
pends on  the  safety  of  property,''  he  told  his  Council  of 
State.  **  There  is  none  in  a  country  where  the  rate  of  tax- 
ation is  changed  every  year.  A  man  who  has  three  thou- 
sand francs  income  does  not  know  how  much  he  will  have  to 
live  on  the  next  year.  His  whole  substance  may  be  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  taxes.*' 

Nearly  the  whole  revenue  came  from  indirect  taxes  ap- 
plied to  a  great  number  of  articles.  In  case  of  a  war  which 
did  not  pay  its  way,  Napoleon  proposed  to  raise  each  of 


these  a  few  centimes.  The  nation  would  surely  prefer  this, 
to  paying  it  to  the  Russians  or  Austrians.  When  possible 
the  taxes  were  reduced.  "  Better  leave  the  money  in  the 
hands  of  the  citizens  than  lock  it  up  in  a  cellar,  as  they  do  in 

He  was  cautious  that  extra  taxes  should  not  come  on  the 
very  poor,  if  it  could  be  avoided.  A  suggestion  to  charge 
the  vegetable  and  fish  sellers  for  their  stalls  came  before 
him.  **  The  public  s(juare,  like  water,  might  to  be  free.  It 
is  quite  enough  that  we  tax  salt  and  wine.  ...  It  would 
become  the  city  of  Paris  much  more  to  think  of  restoring 
the  corn  market." 

An  important  part  of  his  financial  policy  was  the  rigid 
economy  which  was  insisted  on  in  all  dei)artments.  If  a 
thing  was  bought,  it  must  be  worth  what  was  paid  for  it. 
If  a  man  held  a  i)()sition,  he  must  do  its  duties.  Neither 
purchases  nor  positions  could  be  made  unless  reasonable 
and  useful.  This  w^as  in  direct  opposition  to  the  old  regime, 
of  which  waste,  idleness,  and  parasites  were  the  chief  char- 
acteristics. The  saving  in  expenditure  was  almost  incred- 
ible. A  trip  to  Fontainebleau,  which  cost  Louis  XVI.  four 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  Nai)oleon  would  make,  in  no  less 
state,  for  thirtv  thousand  dollars. 

The  expenses  of  the  civil  household,  which  amounted  to 
five  million  dollars  under  the  old  regime,  were  now  cut  down 
to  six  hundred  thousand  dollars,  though  the  elegance  was 
no  less. 

A  master  who  gave  such  strict  attention  to  the  prosperity 
of  his  kingdom  would  not,  of  course,  overlook  its  industries. 
In  fact,  they  were  one  of  Napoleon's  chief  cares.  His 
policy  was  one  of  protection.  He  would  have  France  make 
everything  she  wanted,  and  sell  to  her  neighbors,  but  never 
buy  from  them.  To  simulate  the  manufactories,  which  in 
1799  were  as  nearly  bankrupt  as  the  public  treasury,  he 


visited  the  factories  himself  to  learn  their  needs.  He  gave 
liberal  orders,  and  urged,  even  commanded,  his  associates 
to  do  the  same.  At  one  time,  anxious  to  aid  the  batiste  fac- 
tories of  Flanders,  he  tried  to  force  Josephine  to  give  up 
cotton  goods  and  to  set  the  fashion  in  favor  of  the  batistes ; 
but  she  made  such  an  outcry  that  he  was  obliged  to  abandon 
the  idea.  For  the  same  reason  he  wrote  to  his  sister  Eliza : 
"  I  beg  that  you  will  allow  your  court  to  wear  nothing  but 
silks  and  cambrics,  and  that  you  will  exclude  all  cottons  and 
muslins,  in  order  to  favor  French  industry." 

Frequently  he  would  take  goods  on  consignment,  to  help 
a  struggling  factory.  Rather  than  allow  a  manufactory  to 
be  idle,  he  would  advance  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  a 
quantity  of  its  products  w^ould  be  put  under  government 
control.  After  the  battle  of  Eylau,  Napoleon  sent  one  mil- 
lion six  hundred  thousand  francs  to  Paris,  to  be  used  in  this 
way.  ^ 

To  introduce  cotton-making  into  the  country  was  one  of 
his  chief  industrial  ambitions.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
century  it  was  printed  in  all  the  factories  of  France,  but 
nothing  more.  He  proposed  to  the  Council  of  State  to  pro- 
hibit the  importation  of  cotton  thread  and  the  woven  goods. 
There  was  a  strong  opposition,  but  he  carried  his  point. 

"  As  a  result,''  said  Napoleon  to  Las  Cases  complacently, 
"  we  possess  the  three  branches,  to  the  immense  advantage 
of  our  population  and  to  the  detriment  and  sorrow  of  the 
B'nglish:  which  proves  that,  in  administration  as  in  war, 
one  must  exercise  character.  ...  I  occupied  myself  no 
less  in  encouraging  silks.  As  Emperor,  and  King  of  Italy, 
I  counted  one  hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  income  from 
the  silk  harvest.'' 

In  a  similar  way  he  encouraged  agriculture;  especially 
was  he  anxious  that  France  should  raise  all  her  own  articles 
of  diet.    He  had  Berthollet  look  into  maple  and  turnip  sugar, 

One  of  the  Ix 
truest  at  all,  ,<• 
GihotXt.    Isabcy, 

rails   iif   Ihc    Firat    Coinul-lhe 
fniike    Rouillon,    Van    Hr*e, 

minbly    tic  bed    by    Duiiles' 


and  he  did  at  last  succeed  in  persuading  the  people  to  use 
beet  sugar;  though  he  never  convinced  them  that  Swiss  tea 
equalled  Chinese,  or  that  chicory  was  as  good  as  coflfee. 

The  works  he  insisted  should  be  carried  on  in  regard  to 
roads  and  public  buildings  were  of  great  importance.  There 
was  need  that  something  be  done. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  conceive,  if  one  had  not  been  a  witness  of  it 
before  and  after  the  i8th  Brumaire  [said  the  chancellor  Pasquierl.  of 
the  widespread  ruin  wrought  by  the  Revolution.  .  .  .  There  were 
hardly  two  or  three  main  roads  [in  France]  in  a  fit  condition  for 
traffic;  not  a  single  one  was  there,  perhaps,  wherein  was  not  found 
some  obstacle  that  could  not  be  surmounted  without  peril.  With 
regard  to  the  ways  of  internal  communication,  they  had  been  indefinitely 
suspended.     The  navigation  of  rivers  and  canals  was  no  longer  feasible. 

*'  In  all  directions  public  buildings,  and  those  monuments  which  rep- 
resent the  splendor  of  the  state,  were  faMing  into  decay.  It  must  fain 
be  admitted  that  if  the  work  of  destruction  had  been  prodigious,  that 
of  restoration  was  no  less  so.  Everything  was  taken  hold  of  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  and  everything  progressed  with  a  like  rapidity.  Not 
only  was  it  resolved  to  restore  all  that  required  restoring  in  various 
parts  of  the  country,  in  all  parts  of  the  public  service,  but  new.  grand, 
beautiful  and  useful  works  were  decided  upon  and  many  were  brought 
to  a  happy  termination.  This  certainly  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  sides  of  the  consular  and  imperial   regime." 

In  Paris  alone  vast  improvements  were  made.  Napoleon 
began  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  built  the  wing  connecting  the  Tuil- 
eries  and  the  Louvre,  erected  the  triumphal  arch  of  the 
Carrousel,  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  at  the  head  of  the  Champs 
Elysees,  the  Column  Vendome,  the  Madeleine,  began  the 
Bourse,  built  the  Pont  dWusterlitz,  and  ordered,  com- 
menced, or  finished,  a  number  of  minor  works  of  great  im- 
portance to  the  city.  The  markets  interested  him  par- 
ticularly. "  Give  all  possible  care  to  the  construction  of  the 
markets  and  to  their  healthfulness,  and  to  the  beautv  of  the 
Halle-aux-bles  and  of  the  Halle-aux-vins.  The  people,  too, 
must  have  their  Louvre.'' 

The  works  undertaken  outside  of  Paris  in  France,  and  in 


the  countries  under  her  rule  in  the  time  that  Napoleon  was 
in  power  were  of  a  variety  and  extent  which  would  be  in- 
credible, if  every  traveller  in  Europe  did  not  have  the  evi- 
dence of  them  still  before  his  eyes.  The  mere  enumeration 
of  these  works  and  of  the  industrial  achievements  of  Na- 
poleon, made  by  Las  Cases,  reads  like  a  fairy  story.  "  You 
wish  to  know  the  treasures  of  Napoleon?  They  are  im- 
mense, it  is  true,  but  they  are  all  exposed  to  light.  They 
are  the  noble  harbors  of  Antwerp  and  Flushing,  which  are 
capable  of  containing  the  largest  fleets,  and  of  protecting 
them  against  the  ice  from  the  sea ;  the  hydraulic  works  at 
Dunkirk,  Havre,  and  Nice;  the  immense  harbor  of  Cher- 
bourg; the  maritime  works  at  Venice;  the  beautiful  roads 
from  Antwerp  to  Amsterdam,  from  Mayence  to  Metz,  from 
Bordeaux  to  Bayonne;  the  passes  of  the  Simplon,  of  Mont 
Cenis,  of  Mount  Genevre,  of  the  Corniche,  which  open  a 
communication  through  the  Alps  in  four  different  direc- 
tions, and  which  exceed  in  grandeur,  in  boldness,  and  in 
skill  of  execution,  all  the  works  of  the  Romans  (in  that 
alone  you  will  find  eight  hundred  millions)  ;  the  roads  from 
the  Pyrenees  to  the  Alps,  from  Parma  to  Spezia,  from 
Savona  to  Piedmont;  the  bridges  of  Jena,  Austerlitz,  Des 
Arts,  Sevres,  Tours,  Roanne,  Lyons,  Turin;  of  the  Isere, 
of  the  Durance,  of  Bordeaux,  of  Rouen,  etc. ;  the  canal  which 
connects  the  Rhine  with  the  Rhone  by  the  Doubs,  and  thus 
unites  the  North  Sea  with  the  Mediterranean ;  the  canal 
which  joins  the  Scheldt  with  the  Somme,  and  thus  joins 
Paris  and  Amsterdam ;  the  canal  which  unites  the  Ranee  to 
the  Vilaine ;  the  canal  of  Aries ;  that  of  Pavia,  and  the  canal 
of  the  Rhine ;  the  draining  of  the  marshes  of  Bourgoin,  of 
the  Cotentin,  of  Rochefort;  the  rebuilding  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  churches  destroyed  by  the  Revolution ;  the  build- 
ing of  others :  the  institution  of  numerous  establishments  of 


industry  for  the  suppression  of  mendicity ;  the  gallery  at  the 
Louvre ;  the  construction  of  public  warehouses,  of  the  Bank, 
of  the  canal  of  the  Ourcq;  the  distribution  of  water  in  the 
city  of  Paris ;  the  numerous  drains,  the  quays,  the  embellish- 
ments, and  the  monuments  of  that  large  capital;  the  works 
for  the  embellishment  of  Rome;  the  reestablishment  of  the 
manufactures  of  Lyons;  the  creation  of  many  hundreds  of 
manufactories  of  cotton,  for  spinning  and  for  weaving, 
which  employ  several  millions  of  workmen ;  funds  accumu- 
lated to  establish  upwards  of  four  hundred  manufactories 
of  sugar  from  beet-root,  for  the  consumption  of  part  of 
France,  and  which  would  have  furnished  sugar  at  the  same 
price  as  the  West  Indies,  if  they  had  continued  to  receive 
encouragement  for  only  four  years  longer;  the  substitution 
of  woad  for  indigo,  which  would  have  been  at  last  brought 
to  a  state  of  perfection  in  France,  and  obtained  as  good 
and  as  cheap  as  the  indigo  from  the  colonies;  numerous 
manufactories  for  all  kinds  of  objects  of  art,  etc. ;  fifty  mil- 
lions expended  in  repairing  and  beautifying  the  palaces  be- 
longing to  the  Crown;  sixty  millions  in  furniture  for  the 
palaces  belonging  to  the  Crown  in  France,  in  Holland,  at 
Turin,  and  at  Rome;  sixty  millions  of  diamonds  for  the 
Crown,  all  purchased  with  Napoleon's  money;  the  Regent 
(the  only  diamond  that  was  left  belonging  to  the  former 
diamonds  of  the  Crown)  withdrawn  from  the  hands  of  the 
Jews  at  Berlin,  in  whose  hands  it  had  been  left  as  a  pledge 
for  three  millions.  The  Napoleon  Museum,  valued  at  up- 
wards of  four  hundred  millions,  filled  with  objects  legiti- 
mately acquired,  either  by  moneys  or  by  treaties  of  peace 
known  to  the  whole  world,  by  virtue  of  which  the  chefs- 
d'ocuvres,  it  contains  were  given  in  lieu  of  territory  or  of 
contributions.  Several  millions  amassed  to  be  applied  to  the 
encouragement  of  agriculture,  which  is  the  paramount  con- 

.Tit ten  in  I'rcncli.  Li)*  Dutcn 
al  persunagfs  in  Ilie  l£gy[.t 
:rsc   side   of   tliii   medallion, 

\'crwi1l«   Miueufn. 


sideration  for  the  interest  of  France;  the  introduction  into 
France  of  merino  sheep,  etc.  These  form  a  treasure  of 
several  thousand  millions  which  will  endure  for  ages." 
'  Napoleon  himself  looked  on  these  achievements  as  his 
most  enduring  monument.  **  The  allied  powers  cannot 
take  from  me  hereafter/*  he  told  O'Meara,  **  the  great 
public  works  I  have  executed,  the  roads  which  I  made  over 
the  Alps,  and  the  seas  which  I  have  united.  They  cannot 
place  their  feet  to  improve  where  mine  have  not  been  before. 
They  cannot  take  from  me  the  code  of  laws  which  I  formed, 
and  which  will  go  down  to  posterity," 




BUT  there  were  wounds  in  the  French  nation  more  pro- 
found than  those  caused  by  lack  of  credit,  by  neglect 
and  corruption.  The  body  which  in  1789  made  up 
France  had,  in  the  last  ten  years,  been  violently  and  hor- 
ribly wrenched  asunder.  One  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
of  the  richest,  most  cultivated,  and  most  capable  of  the  popu- 
lation had  been  stripped  of  wealth  and  position,  and  had 
emigrated  to  foreign  lands. 

Napoleon  saw  that  if  the  emigres  could  be  reconciled,  he 
at  once  convened  a  powerful  enemy  into  a  zealous  friend. 
In  spite  of  the  opposition  of  those  who  had  made  the  Revo- 
lution and  gained  their  positions  through  it,  he  accorded 
an  amnesty  to  the  emigres,  which  included  the  whole  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  with  the  excepti(^n  of  about  one 
thousand,  and  this  number,  it  was  arranged,  should  l)e  re- 
duced to  five  hundred  in  the  course  of  a  year.  More,  he 
provided  for  their  wants.  Most  of  the  smaller  properties 
confiscated  by  the  Revolution  had  been  sold,  and  Xapoleon 
insisted  that  th(^se  who  had  bought  them  from  the  state 
should  be  assured  of  their  tenure ;  but  in  case  a  property  had 
not  been  disposed  of,  he  returned  it  to  the  family,  though 
rarely  in  full.  In  case  of  forest  lands,  not  over  three  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  acres  were  given  back.  Gifts  and 
positions  were  given  to  many  emigres,  so  that  the  majority 
were  able  to  live  in  ease. 



A  valuable  result  of  this  policy  of  reconciliation  was  the 
amount  of  talent,  experience,  and  culture  which  he  gained 
for  the  government.  France  had  been  run  for  ten  years  by 
country  lawyers,  doctors,  and  pamphleteers,  who,  though 
they  boasted  civic  virtue  and  eloquence,  and  though  they 
knew  their  Plutarch  and  Rousseau  by  heart,  had  no  prac- 
tical sense,  and  little  or  no  experience.  The  return  of  the 
emigres  gave  France  a  body  of  trained  diplomats,  judges, 
and  thinkers,  many  of  whom  were  promptly  admitted  to 
the  government. 

More  serious  than  the  amputation  of  the  aristocracy  had 
been  that  of  the  Church.  The  Revolution  had  torn  it  from 
the  nation,  had  confiscated  its  property,  turned  its  cathedrals 
into  barracks,  its  convents  and  seminaries  into  town  halls 
and  prisons,  sold  its  lands,  closed  its  schools  and  hospitals. 
It  had  demanded  an  oath  of  the  clergy  which  had  divided 
the  body,  and  caused  thousands  to  emigrate.  Not  content 
with  this,  it  had  tried  to  supi)lant  the  old  religion,  first  with 
a  worship  of  the  Goddess  of  Reason,  afterwards  with  one 
of  the  Supreme  Being. 

But  the  people  still  loved  the  Catholic  Church.  The  mass 
of  them  kept  their  crucifixes  in  their  houses,  told  their  beads, 
observed  fast  days.  No  matter  hcnv  severe  a  penalty  was 
attached  to  the  observance  of  Sunday  instead  of  the  day 
which  had  replaced  it,  called  the  **  decade,"  at  heart  the 
people  remembered  it.  **  We  rest  on  the  decade,"  said  a 
workman  once,  **  but  we  change  our  shirts  on  Sunday.** 

Napoleon  understood  the  popular  heart,  and  he  proposed 
the  reestablishment  of  the  Catholic  Church.  The  Revo- 
lutionists, even  his  warmest  friends  among  the  generals, 
opposed  it.  Infidelity  was  a  cardinal  point  in  the  creed  of 
the  majority  of  the  new  regime.  They  not  only  rejected 
the  Church,  they  ridiculed  it.     Rather  than  restore  Catholi- 


cism,  they  advised  Protestantism.  "  But,"  declared  Na- 
poleon, '*  France  is  not  Protestant ;  she  is  Catholic." 

In  the  Council  of  State,  where  the  question  was  argued, 
he  said :  "  My  policy  is  to  govern  men  as  the  greatest  number 
wish  to  be  governed.  ...  I  carried  on  the  war  of  Ven- 
dee by  becoming  a  Catholic;  I  established  myself  in  Egypt 
by  becoming  a  Mussulman ;  I  won  over  the  priests  in  Italy 
by  becoming  Ultramontane.  If  I  governed  Jews  I  should 
reestablish  the  temple  of  Solomon.  ...  It  is  thus,  I 
think,  that  the  sovereignty  of  the  i^eople  should  be  under- 

Evidently  this  was  a  very  different  way  of  understanding 
that  famous  doctrine  from  that  which  had  been  in  vogue, 
which  consisted  in  forcing  the  people  to  accept  what  each 
idealist  thought  was  best,  without  consulting  their  preju- 
dices or  feelings.  In  spite  of  opposition,  Napoleon's  will 
prevailed,  and  in  the  spring  of  1802  the  Concordat  was 
signed.  This  treaty  between  the  Pope  and  France  is  still  in 
force  in  France.  It  makes  the  Catholic  Church  the  state 
church,  allows  the  government  to  name  the  bishops,  com- 
pels it  to  pay  the  salaries  of  the  clergy,  and  to  furnish 
cathedrals  and  churches  for  public  worship,  which,  how- 
ever, remain  national  property.  The  Concordat  provided 
for  the  absolution  of  the  priests  who  had  married  in 
the  Revolution,  restored  Sunday,  and  made  legal  holidays 
of  certain  fete  days.  This  arrangement  was  not  made  at  the 
price  of  intolerance  towards  other  bodies.  The  French 
government  protects  and  contributes  towards  the  support 
of  all  religions  within  its  bounds,  Catholic,  Protestant,  Jew, 
or  Mohammedan.  The  Concordat  was  ridiculed  by  many 
in  the  government  and  army,  but  undoubtedly  it  was  one  ot 
the  most  statesmanlike  measures  carried  out  by  Napoleon. 

"  The   joy   of   the   overwhelming   majority    of    France 


silenced  even  the  boldest  malcontents/'  says  Pasquier;  "it 
became  evident  that  Napoleon,  better  than  those  who  sur- 
rounded him,  had  seen  into  the  depths  of  the  nation's  heart." 
It  is  certain  that  in  reestablishing  the  Church  Napoleon 
did  not  yield  to  any  religious  prejudice,  although  the  Cath- 
olic Church  was  the  one  he  preferred.  It  was  purely  a  ques- 
tion of  policy.  In  arranging  the  Concordat  he  might  have 
secured  more  liberal  measures — measures  in  which  he  be- 
lieved— but  he  refused  them. 

^  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  manufacture  a  religion  of  caprice  for  my  own 
special  use,  a  religion  that  would  be  nobody's?  I  do  not  so  under- 
stand matters.  What  I  want  is  the  old  Catholic  religion,  the  only  one 
which  is  imbedded  in  every  heart,  and  from  which  it  has  never  been 
torn.  This  religion  alcne  can  conciliate  hearts  in  my  favor;  it  alone 
can  smooth  away  all  obstacles." 

In  discussing  the  subject  at  St.  Helena  he  said  to  Las 
Cases : 

**  When  I  came  to  the  head  of  affairs.  I  had  already  formed  certain 
ideas  on  the  great  principles  which  hold  society  together.  I  had 
weighed  all  the  importance  of  religion ;  I  was  persuaded  of  it.  and  I 
and  resolved  to  reestablish  it.  You  would  scarcely  believe  in  the  diffi- 
culties that  I  had  to  restore  Catholicism.  I  would  have  been  followed 
much  more  willingly  if  I  had  unfurled  the  banner  of  Protestantism. 
...  It  is  sure  that  in  the  disorder  to  which  I  succeeded,  in  the 
ruins  where  I  found  myself,  I  could  choose  between  Catholicism  and 
Protestantism.  And  it  is  true  that  at  that  moment  the  disposition  was 
io  favor  of  the  latter.  But  outside  the  fact  that  I  really  clung  to  the 
religion  in  which  I  had  been  born,  I  had  the  highest  motives  to  decide 
me.  By  proclaiming  Protestantism,  what  would  I  have  obtained?  I 
should  have  created  in  France  two  great  parties  about  equal,  when  I 
wished  there  should  be  longer  but  one.  I  should  have  excited  the  fury 
of  religious  quarrels,  when  the  enlightenment  of  the  age  and  my  de- 
sire was  to  make  them  disappear  altogether.  These  two  parties  in 
tearing  each  other  to  pieces  would  have  annihilated  France  and  render- 
ed her  the  slave  of  Europe,  when  I  was  ambitious  of  making  her  its 
mistress.  With  Catholicism  I  arrived  much  more  surely  at  my  great 
results.  Within,  at  home,  the  great  number  would  absorb  the  small. 
and  I  promised  myself  to  treat  with  the  latter  so  liberally  that  it  would 
soon  have  no  motive  for  knowing  the  difference. 


"  Without,  Catholicism  saved  me  the  Pope ;  and  with  my  influences 
and  our  forces  in  Italy  I  did  not  despair  sooner  or  later,  by  one  way  or 
another,  of  finishing  by  ruling  the  Pope  myself." 

When  the  Church  fell  in  France,  the  whole  system  of 
education  went  clown  with  her.  The  Revolutionary  govern- 
ments tried  to  remedy  the  condition,  but  beyond  many  plans 
and  speeches  little  had  been  done.  Napoleon  allowed  the 
religious  bodies  to  reopen  their  schools,  and  thus  primary 
instruction  was  soon  ])rovided  again ;  and  he  founded  a  num- 
ber of  secondary  and  special  schools.  The  greatest  of  his 
educational  undertakings  was  the  organization  of  the  Uni- 
versity. This  institution  was  centralized  in  the  head  of  the 
state  as  ccnnpletely  as  every  other  Napoleonic  institution. 
It  exists  to-day  but  little  changed — a  most  efficient  body, 
in  spite  of  its  rigid  state  control.  This  university  did  noth- 
ing for  woman. 

*'  I  do  not  think  we  need  trouble  ourselves  with  any  plan  of 
instruction  for  young  females,"  Napoleon  told  the  Council. 
"  They  cannot  be  brought  up  better  than  by  their  mothers. 
Public  education  is  not  suitable  for  them,  because  they  are 
never  called  upcMi  to  act  in  public.  Manners  are  all  in  all  to 
them,  and  marriage  is  all  they  look  to.  In  times  past  the 
monastic  life  was  open  to  women ;  they  espoused  God,  and, 
though  society  gained  little  by  that  alliance,  the  parents 
gained  by  pocketing  the  dowry." 

It  was  with  the  education  of  the  daughters  of  soldiers, 
civil  functionaries,  and  members  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
who  had  died  and  left  their  children  unprovided  for,  that 
he  concerned  himself,  establishing  schools  of  which  the 
well-known  one  at  St.  Denis  is  a  model.  The  rules  were 
prepared  by  Napoleon  himself,  who  insisted  that  the  girls 
should  be  taught  all  kinds  of  housework  and  needlework — 
everything,  in  fact,  which  would  make  them  good  house- 
keepers and  honest  women. 


The  military  schools  were  also  reorganized  at  this  time. 
Remembering  his  own  experience  at  the  Ecole  Militaire,  Na- 
poleon arranged  that  the  severest  economy  should  be  prac- 
tised in  them,  and  that  the  pupils  should  learn  to  do  every- 
thing for  themselves.  They  even  cleaned,  bedded,  and  shod 
their  own  horses. 

The  destruction  of  the  old  system  of  privileges  and  honors 
left  the  government  without  any  means  of  rewarding  those 
who  rendered  it  a  service.  Napoleon  presented  a  law  for  a 
Legion  of  Honor,  under  control  of  the  state,  which  should 
admit  to  its  membership  only  those  who  had  done  some- 
thing of  use  to  the  public.  The  service  might  be  military, 
commercial,  artistic,  humanitarian;  no  limit  w^as  put  on  its 
nature ;  anything  which  helped  France  in  any  way  was  to  be 
rewarded  by  membership  in  the  proposed  order.  In  fact,  it 
was  the  most  democratic  distinction  possible,  since  the  same 
rew-ard  was  given  for  all  classes  of  service  and  to  all  classes 
of  people. 

Now  the  Revolutionary  spirt  spurned  all  distinction ;  and 
as  free  discussion  was  allowed  on  the  law,  a  severe  arraign- 
ment of  it  was  made.  Nevertheless,  it  passed.  It  im- 
mediately became  a  power  in  the  hands  of  the  First  Consul, 
and  such  it  has  remained  until  to-day  in  the  government. 
Though  it  has  been  frequently  abused,  and  never,  perhaps, 
more  flagrantly  than  by  the  present  Republic,  unquestion- 
ably the  French  "  red  button  ''  is  a  decoration  of  which  to  be 

The  greatest  civil  achievement  of  Napoleon  was  the  codi- 
fication of  the  laws.  Up  to  the  Revolution,  the  laws  of 
France  had  been  in  a  misty,  incoherent  condition,  feudal  in 
their  spirit,  and  by  no  means  uniform  in  their  application. 
The  Constituent  Assembly  had  ordered  them  revised,  but 
the  work  had  only  been  begun.  Napoleon  believed  justly 
that  the  greatest  benefit  he  could  render  France  would  be 






ived  in  London,  by  C.  Turner,  atlcr  a  paintmE  by  J.  Masque 


to  give  her  a  complete  and  systematic  code.  He  organized 
the  force  for  this  gigantic  task,  and  pushed  revision  with 
unflagging  energy. 

His  part  in  the  work  was  interesting  and  important. 
After  the  laws  had  been  well  digested  and  arranged  in  pre- 
liminary bodies,  they  were  submitted  to  the  Council  of  State. 
It  was  in  the  discussion  before  this  body  that  Napoleon  took 
part.  That  a  man  of  thirty-one,  brought  up  as  a  soldier, 
and  having  no  legal  training,  could  follow  the  discussions 
of  such  a  learned  and  serious  body  as  Napoleon's  Council 
of  State  always  was,  seems  incredible.  In  fact,  he  prepared 
for  each  session  as  thoroughly  as  the  law-makers  themselves. 
His  habit  was  to  talk  over,  beforehand  generally  with 
Cambaceres  and  Portal  is,  two  legislators  of  great  learning 
and  clearness  of  judgment,  all  the  matters  which  were  to 
come  up. 

He  examined  each  question  by  itself,'*  says  Roederer, 

inquiring  into  all  the  authorities,  times,  experiences;  de- 
manding to  know  how  it  had  been  under  ancient  jurispru- 
dence, under  Louis  XIV.,  or  Frederick  the  Great.  When  a 
bill  was  presented  to  the  First  Consul,  he  rarely  failed  to  ask 
these  questions :  Is  this  bill  complete  ?  Does  it  cover  every 
case  Why  have  you  not  thought  of  this  ?  Is  that  necessary  ? 
Is  it  right  or  useful?  What  is  done  nowadays  and  else- 
where ?  " 

At  night,  after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  he  would  read  or  have 
read  to  him  authorities  on  the  subject.  Such  was  his  capac- 
ity for  grasping  any  idea,  that  he  would  come  to  the  Council 
with  a  perfectly  clear  notion  of  the  subject  to  be  treated, 
and  a  good  idea  of  its  historical  development.  Thus  he  could 
follow  the  most  erudite  and  philosophical  arguments,  and 
could  take  part  in  them.  He  stripped  them  at  once  of  all 
conventional  phrases  and  learned  terms,  and  stated  clearly 
what  they  meant.     He  had  no  use  for  anything  but  the  plain 



meaning.  By  thus  going  directly  to  the  practical  sense  of  a 
thing,  he  frequently  cleared  up  the  ideas  of  the  revisers  them- 

In  framing  the  laws,  he  took  care  that  they  should  be 
worded  so  that  everybody  could  understand  them.  Thus, 
when  a  law  relating  to  li(iuors  was  being  prepared,  he  urged 
that  wholesale  and  retail  should  be  defined  in  such  a  way 
that  they  would  be  definite  ideas  to  the  people.  *'  Pot  and 
pint  must  be  inserted,"  he  said.  **  There  is  no  objection  to 
those  words.     An  excise  act  isn't  an  epic  poem.'' 

Napoleon  insisted  on  the  greatest  freedom  of  speech  in  the 
discussions  on  the  laws,  just  as  he  did  on  "  going  straight 
to  the  point  and  not  wasting  time  on  idle  talk."  This  clear- 
headedness, energy,  and  grasj)  of  subject,  exercised  over  a 
body  of  really  remarkable  men,  developed  the  Council  until 
its  discussions  became  famous  througlKUit  Europe.  One  of 
its  wisest  members.  Chancellor  Pascjuier,  says  of  Napoleon's 
direction  that  "  it  was  of  such  a  nature  as  to  enlarge  the 
sphere  of  one's  ideas,  and  to  give  (Mie's  faculties  all  the  de- 
velopment of  which  they  were  capable.  The  highest  legisla- 
tive, administrative,  and  sometimes  even  political  matters 
were  taken  up  in  it  (the  Council).  Did  we  not  see,  for  two 
consecutive  winters,  the  sons  of  foreign  sovereigns  come  and 
complete  their  education  in  its  midst?  " 

It  was  the  genius  of  the  head  of  the  state,  however,  which 
was  the  most  impressive  feature  of  the  Council  of  State. 
De  Molleville,  a  former  minister  of  Louis  XVI.,  said  once 
to  Las  Cases: 

"  It  must  be  admitted  that  your  Bonaparte,  your  Napoleon,  was  a 
very  extraordinary  man.  We  were  far  from  understanding  him  on 
the  other  side  of  the  water.  We  could  not  refuse  the  evidence  of  his 
victories  and  his  invasions,  it  is  true;  but  Genseric.  Attila,  Alaric  had 
done  as  much ;  so  he  made  more  of  an  impression  of  terror  on  me  than 
of  admiration.  But  when  I  came  here  and  followed  the  discussions  on 
the  civil  code,  from  that  moment  I  had  nothing  but  profound  veneration 


for  him.  But  where  in  the  world  had  he  learned  all  that?  And  then 
every  day  I  discovered  something  new  in  him.  Ah,  sir,  what  a  man 
you  had  there!    Truly,  he  was  a  prodigy.'' 

The  modern  reader  who  looks  at  France  and  sees  how  her 
University,  her  special  schools,  her  hospitals,  her  great 
honorary  legion,  her  treaty  with  the  Catholic  Church,  her 
code  of  laws,  her  Bank — the  vital  elements  of  her  life,  in 
short — are  as  they  came  from  Napoleon's  brain,  must  ask, 
with  De  Molleville,  How  did  he  do  it — he  a  foreigner,  born 
in  a  half-civilized  island,  reared  in  a  military  school,  without 
diplomatic  or  legal  training,  without  the  prestige  of  name  or 
wealth  ?  How  could  he  make  a  nation  ?  How  could  he  be 
other  than  the  barbaric  conqueror  the  English  and  the 
emigres  first  thought  him. 

Those  who  look  at  Napoleon's  achievements,  and  are 
either  dazzled  or  horrified  by  them,  generally  consider  his 
power  superhuman.  They  call  it  divine  or  diabolic,  accord- 
ing to  the  feeling  he  inspires  in  them;  but,  in  reality,  the 
qualities  he  showed  in  his  career  as  a  statesman  and  law- 
giver are  very  human  ones.  His  stout  grasp  on  subjects; 
his  genius  for  hard  work;  his  power  of  seeing  everything 
that  should  be  done,  and  doing  it  himself;  his  unparalleled 
audacity,  explain  his  civil  achievements. 

The  comprehension  he  had  of  questions  of  government 
was  really  the  result  of  serious  thinking.  He  had  reflected 
from  his  first  days  at  Brienne ;  and  the  active  interest  he  had 
taken  in  the  Revolution  of  1789  had  made  him  familiar  with 
many  social  and  political  questions.  His  career  in  Italy, 
which  was  almost  as  much  a  diplomatic  as  a  military  career, 
had  furnished  him  an  experience  upon  which  he  had  founded 
many  notions.  In  his  dreams  of  becoming  an  Oriental  law- 
giver he  had  planned  a  system  of  government  of  which  he 
was  to  be  the  centre.  Thus,  before  the  i8th  Brumaire  made 
him  the  Dictator  of  France,  he  had  his  ideas  of  centralized 

in   iSoi    by  AudDuin.  after  a  dnij^n  by   RnuUlon 


government  all  formed,  just  as,  before  he  crossed  the  Great 
Saint  Bernard,  he  had  fought,  over  and  over,  the  battle  of 
Marengo,  with  black-  and  red-headed  pins  stuck  into  a 
great  map  of  Italy  spread  out  on  his  study  floor. 

His  habit  of  attending  to  everything  himself  explains 
much  of  his  success.  No  detail  was  too  small  for  him,  no 
task  too  menial.  If  a  thing  needed  attention,  no  matter 
whose  business  it  was,  he  looked  after  it.  Reading  letters 
once  before  Madame  Junot,  she  said  to  him  that  such  work 
must  be  tiresome,  and  advised  him  to  give  it  to  a  secretary. 

"  Later,  perhaps,''  he  said,  '*  Now  it  is  impossible;  I  must 
answer  for  all.  It  is  not  at  the  beginning  of  a  return  to 
order  that  I  can  aflFord  to  ignore  a  need,  a  demand." 

He  carried  out  this  policy  literally.  When  he  went  on  a 
journey,  he  looked  personally  after  every  road,  bridge,  public 
building,  he  passed,  and  his  letters  teemed  with  orders  about 
repairs  here,  restorations  there.  He  looked  after  individuals 
in  the  same  way ;  ordered  a  pension  to  this  one,  a  position  to 
that  one,  even  dictating  how  the  gift  should  be  made  known 
so  as  to  oflFend  the  least  possible  the  pride  of  the  recipient. 

When  it  came  to  foreign  policy,  he  told  his  diplomats  how 
they  should  look,  whpther  it  should  be  grave  or  gay,  whether 
they  should  discuss  the  opera  or  the  political  situation. 

The  cost  of  the  soldiers'  shoes,  the  kind  of  box  Josephine 
took  at  the  opera,  the  style  of  architecture  for  the  Made- 
leine, the  amount  of  stock  left  on  hand  in  the  silk  factories, 
the  wording  of  the  laws,  all  was  his  business. 

He  thought  of  the  flowers  to  be  scattered  daily  on  the 
tomb  of  General  Regnier,  suggested  the  idea  of  a  battle 
hymn  to  Rouget  de  Tlsle,  told  the  artists  what  expression 
to  give  him  in  their  portraits,  what  accessories  to  use  in 
the  battle  pieces,  ordered  everything,  verified  everything. 
"  Beside  him,"  said  those  who  looked  on  in  amazement, 
"  the  most  punctilious  clerk  would  have  been  a  bungler." 


Without  an  extraordinary  capacity  for  work,  no  man 
could  have  done  this.  Napoleon  would  work  until  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  be  up  again  at  three  in  the 
morning.  Frequently  he  slept  but  an  hour,  and  came  back 
as  fresh  as  ever.  No  secretary  could  keep  up  to  him,  and 
his  ministers  sometimes  went  to  sleep  in  the  Council,  worn 
out  with  the  length  of  the  session.  "  Come,  citizen  min- 
isters," he  would  cry,  *'  we  must  earn  the  money  the  French 
nation  gives  us.'*  The  ministers  rarely  went  home  from  the 
meetings  that  they  did  not  find  a  half-dozen  letters  from  him 
on  their  tal)les  to  be  answered,  and  the  answer  must  be  a 
clear,  exact,  exhaustive  document.  "  Get  your  information 
so  that  when  you  do  answer  me,  there  shall  be  no  *  buts,' 
no  '  ifs,'  and  no  *  becauses/  "  was  the  rule  Napoleon  laid 
down  to  his  correspondents. 

He  had  audacity.  He  dared  do  what  he  would.  He  had 
no  conventional  notions  to  tie  him,  no  master  to  dictate  to 
him.  The  Revolution  had  swept  out  of  his  way  the  accumu- 
lated experience  of  centuries — all  the  habits,  the  prejudices, 
the  ways  of  doing  things.  He  commenced  nearer  the  bottom 
than  any  man  in  the  history  of  the  civilized  world  had  ever 
done,  worked  with  imperial  self-confidence,  with  a  convic- 
tion that  he  *'  was  not  like  other  men ; ''  that  the  moral  law^s, 
the  creeds,  the  conventions,  which  applied  to  them,  wxre  not 
for  him.  He  might  listen  to  others,  but  in  the  end  he  dared 
do  as  he  would. 




THE  centralization  of  France  in  Napoleon's  hands  was 
not  to  be  allowed  to  go  on  without  interference. 
Jacobinism,  republicanism,  royalism,  were  deeply- 
rooted  sentiments,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  began 
to  struggle  for  expression. 

Early  in  the  Consulate,  plots  of  many  descriptions  were 
unearthed.  The  most  serious  before  1803  was  that  known 
as  the  '*  Opera  Plot/'  or  "Plot  of  the  3d  Nivose  "  (De- 
cember 24,  1800),  when  a  bomb  was  placed  in  the  street,  to 
be  exploded  as  the  First  Consul's  carriage  passed.  By  an 
accident  he  w^as  saved,  and,  in  spite  of  the  shock,  went  on 
to  the  opera. 

Madame  Junot,  who  was  there,  gives  a  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  the  way  the  news  was  received  by  the  house : 

**  The  first  thirty  measures  of  the  oratorio  were  scarcely  played, 
when  a  strong  explosion  like  a  cannon  was  heard. 

"  *  What  does  that  mean  ?  *  exclaimed  Junot  with  emotion.  He  open- 
ed the  door  of  the  logc  and  looked  into  the  corridor.  .  .  .'It  is 
strange;  how  can  they  be  firing  cannon  at  this  hour?'  And  then 
*  I  should  have  known  it.  Give  me  my  hat ;  I  am  going  to  find  out 
what  it  is.    .    .    .' 

**  At  this  moment  the  loge  of  the  First  Consul  opened,  and  fie  him- 
self appeared  with  Generals  Lannes,  Lauriston,  Berthier,  and  Duroc. 
Smiling,  he  saluted  the  immense  crowd,  which  mingled  cries  like  those 
of  love  with  its  applause.  Madame  Bonaparte  followed  him  in  a  few 
seconds.    .    .    . 

"Junot  was  going  to  enter  the  loge  to  see  for  himself  the  serene  air 



of  the  First  Consul  that  I  had  just  remarked,  when  Duroc  came  up  to 
us  with  troubled  face. 

*'  *  The  First  Consul  has  just  escaped  death,'  he  said  quickly  to 
Junot.  *  Go  down  and  see  him ;  he  wants  to  talk  to  you.'  .  .  .  But 
a  dull  sound  commenced  to  spread  from  parterre  to  orchestra,  from 
orchestra  to  amphitheatre,  and  thence  to  the  loges. 

"  *  The  First  Consul  has  just  been  attacked  in  the  Rue  Saint  Nicaise/ 
it  was  whispered.  Soon  the  truth  was  circulated  in  the  salle;  at  the 
same  instant,  and  as  by  an  electric  shock,  one  and  the  same  acclama- 
tion arose,  one  and  the  same  look  enveloped  Napoleon,  as  if  in  a  pro- 
tecting love. 

"  What  agitation  preceded  the  explosion  of  national  anger  which 
was  represented  in  that  first  quarter  of  an  hour,  by  that  crowd  whose 
fury  for  so  black  an  attack  could  not  be  expressed  by  words !  Women 
sobbed  aloud,  men  shivered  with  indignation.  Whatever  the  banner 
they  followed,  they  were  united  heart  and  arm  in  this  case  to  show 
that  differences  of  opinion  did  not  bring  with  them  differences  in  un- 
derstanding honor." 

It  was  such  attempts,  and  suspicion  of  like  ones,  that  led 
to  the  extension  of  the  police  service.  One  of  the  ablest  and 
craftiest  men  of  the  Revolution  became  Napoleon's  head  of 
jK)lice  in  the  Consulate,  Fouche.  A  consummate  actor  and 
skilful  flatterer,  hampered  by  no  conscience  other  than  the 
duty  of  keeping  in  place,  he  acted  a  curious  and  entertaining 
part.  Detective  work  was  for  him  a  game  which  he  played 
with  intense  relish.  He  was  a  veritable  amateur  of  plots, 
and  never  gayer  than  when  tracing  them. 

Napoleon  admired  Fouche,  but  he  did  not  trust  him, 
and,  to  offset  him,  formed  a  private  police  to  spy  on  his 
work.  He  never  succeeded  in  finding  anyone  sufficiently 
fine  to  match  the  chief,  w'ho  several  times  was  malicious 
enough  to  contrive  plots  himself,  to  excite  and  mislead  the 
private  agents. 

The  system  of  espionage  went  so  far  that  letters  were 
regularly  opened.  It  was  commonly  said  that  those  who 
did  not  want  their  letters  read,  did  not  send  them  by  post; 
and  though  it  was  hardly  necessary,  as  in  the  Revolution, 
to  send  them  in  pies,  in  coat-linings,  or  hat-crowns,  yet  care 


and  prudence  had  to  be  exercised  in  handling  all  political 

It  was  difficult  to  get  officials  for  the  post-office  who  could 
be  relied  on  to  intercept  the  proper  letters;  and  in  1802,  the 
Postmaster-General,  Monsieur  Bernard,  the  father  of  the 
beautiful  Madame  Recamier,  was  found  to  be  concealing 
an  active  royalist  correspondence,  and  to  be  permitting  the 
circulation  of  a  quantity  of  seditious  pamphlets.  His  arrest 
and  imprisonment  made  a  great  commotion  in  his  daughter's 
circle,  which  was  one  of  social  and  intellectual  importance. 
Through  the  intercessions  of  Bernadotte,  Monsieur  Ber- 
nard was  pardoned  by  Napoleon.  The  cabinet  noir,  as  the 
department  of  the  post-office  which  did  this  work  was  called, 
was  in  existence  when  Napoleon  came  to  the  Consulate,  and 
he  rather  restricted  than  increased  its  operations.  It  has 
never  been  entirely  given  up,  as  many  an  inoffensive  for- 
eigner in  France  can  testify. 

The  theatre  and  press  were  also  subjected  to  a  strict  cen- 
sorship. In  1800  the  number  of  newspapers  in  Paris  was 
reduced  to  twelve :  and  in  three  years  there  were  but  eight 
left,  with  a  total  subscription  list  of  eighteen  thousand  six 
hundred  and  thirty.  Napoleon's  contempt  for  journalists 
and  editors  equalled  that  he  had  for  lawyers,  whom  he  called 
a  **  heap  of  babblers  and  revolutionists."  Neither  class  could, 
in  his  judgment,  be  allowed  to  go  free. 

The  salons  were  watched,  and  it  is  certain  that  those 
whose  habUues  criticised  Napoleon  freely  were  reported. 
One  serious  rupture  resulted  from  the  supervision  of  the 
salons,  that  with  Madame  de  Stael.  She  had  been  an  ardent 
admirer  of  Napoleon  in  the  beginning  of  the  Consulate, 
and  Bourrienne  tells  several  amusing  stories  of  the  disgust 
Napoleon  showed  at  the  letters  of  admiration  and  sentiment 
which  she  wrote  him  even  so  far  back  as  the  Italian  cam- 
paign.   If  the  secretary  is  to  be  believed,  Madame  de  Stael 


This  pencil  portrait  by  Davitl  is  nothing 
hut  a  rapid  sketch,  but  its  iconographic  in- 
terest is  undeniable.  David  doubtless  exe- 
cuted this  design  towards  the  end  of  1797, 
after  IJonaparte's  return  from  Italy.  It 
belongs  to  Monsieur  Cheramy,  a  Paris 
lawyer. — A.    D. 



told  Napoleon,  in  one  of  these  letters,  that  they  were  cer- 
tainly created  for  each  other,  that  it  was  an  error  in  human 
institutions  that  the  mild  and  tranquil  Josephine  was  united 
to  his  fate,  that  nature  evidently  had  intended  for  a  hero 
such  as  he,  her  own  soul  of  fire.  Napoleon  tore  the  letter 
to  pieces,  and  he  took  pains  thereafter  to  announce  with 
great  bluntness  to  Madame  de  Stael,  whenever  he  met  her, 
his  own  notions  of  women,  which  certainly  were  anything 
but  "  modern/' 

As  the  centralization  of  the  government  increased, 
Madame  de  Stael  and  her  friends  criticized  Napoleon  more 
freely  and  sharply  than  they  would  have  done,  no  doubt, 
had  she  not  been  incensed  by  his  personal  attitude  towards 
her.  This  hostility  increased  until,  in  1803,  the  First  Con- 
sul ordered  her  out  of  France.  "  The  arrival  of  this  woman, 
like  that  of  a  bird  of  omen,  has  always  been  the  signal  for 
some  trouble,''  he  said  in  giving  the  order.  "  It  is  not  my 
intention  to  allow  her  to  remain  in  France." 

In  1807  this  order  was  repeated,  and  many  of  Madame 
de  Stael's  friends  were  included  in  the  proscription : 

*'  I  have  written  to  the  Minister  of  Police  to  send  Madame  de  Stael 
to  Geneva.  This  woman  continues  her  trade  of  intriguer.  She  went 
near  Paris  in  spite  of  my  orders.  She  is  a  veritable  plague.  Speak 
seriously  to  the  Minister,  for  I  shall  be  obliged  to  have  her  seized  by 
the  f^cndarmcric.  Keep  an  eye  upon  Benjamin  Constant ;  if  he  med- 
dles with  anything  I  shall  send  him  to  his  wife  at  Brunswick.  I  will 
not  tolerate  this  clique.'' 

But  when  one  compares  the  policy  of  restriction  during 
the  Consulate  with  what  it  had  been  under  the  old  regime 
and  during  the  Revolution,  it  certainly  was  far  in  advance  in 
liberty,  discretion,  and  humanity.  The  republican  govern- 
ment to-day,  in  its  repression  of  anarchy,  and  socialism 
has  acted  with  less  wisdom  and  less  respect  for  freedom 
of  thought  than  Napoleon  did  at  this  period  of  his  career; 
and  that,  too,  in  circumstances  less  complicated  and  critical. 


If  there  were  still  dull  rumors  of  discontent,  a  cabinet 
noir,  a  restricted  press,  a  censorship  over  the  theatre,  pro- 
scriptions, even  imprisonments  and  executions,  on  the  whole 
France  was  happy. 

"  Not  only  did  the  interior  wheels  of  the  machine  com- 
mence to  run  smoothly/'  says  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantes, 
"  but  the  arts  themselves,  that  most  peaceful  part  of  the  in- 
terior administration,  gave  striking  proofs  of  the  returning 
prosperity  of  France.  The  exposition  at  the  Salon  that  year 
(1800)  was  remarkably  fine.  Guerin,  David,  Gerard,  Giro- 
det,  a  crowd  of  great  talents,  spurred  on  by  the  emulation 
which  always  awakes  the  fire  of  genius,  produced  works 
which  must  some  time  place  our  school  at  a  high  rank.'* 

The  art  treasures  of  Europe  were  pouring  into  France. 
Under  the  direction  of  Denon,  that  indefatigable  dilettante 
and  student,  who  had  collected  in  the  expedition  in  Egypt 
more  entertaining  material  than  the  whole  Institute,  and  had 
written  a  report  of  it  which  will  always  be  preferred  to  the 
"  Great  Work,"  the  galleries  of  Paris  were  reorganized  and 
opened  two  days  of  the  week  to  the  people.  Napoleon  in- 
augurated this  practice  himself.  Not  only  w^as  Paris  sup- 
plied with  galleries;  those  department  museums  which  to- 
day surprise  and  delight  the  tourist  in  France  were  then 
created  at  Angers,  Antwerp,  Autun,  Bordeaux,  Brussels, 
Caen,  Dijon,  Geneva,  Grenoble,  Le  Mans,  Lille,  Lyons, 
Mayence,  Marseilles,  Montpellier,  Nancy,  Nantes,  Rennes, 
Rouen,  Strasburg,  Toulouse,  and  Tours.  The  prix  de 
Rome,  for  which  there  had  been  no  money  in  the  treasury 
for  some  time,  was  reestablished. 

Every  eflfort  was  made  to  stimulate  scientific  research. 
The  case  of  Volta  is  one  to  the  point.  In  1801  Bonaparte 
called  the  eminent  physicist  to  Paris  to  repeat  his  experi- 
ments before  the  Institute.  He  proposed  that  a  medal  should 
be  given  him,  with  a  sum  of  money,  and  in  his  honor  he  es- 


tablished  a  prize  of  sixty  thousand  francs,  to  be  awarded 
to  any  one  who  should  make  a  discovery  similar  in  value 
to  Volta's.*  An  American — Robert  Fulton — was  about  the 
same  time  encouraged  by  the  First  Consul.  Fulton  was 
experimenting  with  his  submarine  torpedo  and  diving  boat, 
and  for  four  years  had  been  living  in  Paris  and  besieging 
the  Directory  to  grant  him  attention  and  funds.  Napoleon 
took  the  matter  up  as  soon  as  Fulton  brought  it  to  him, 
ordered  a  commission  appointed  to  look  into  the  invention, 
and  a  grant  of  ten  thousand  francs  for  the  necessary  ex- 

The  Institute  was  reorganized,  and  to  encourage  science 
and  the  arts  he  founded,  in  1804,  tw^enty-two  prizes,  nine  of 
which  were  of  ten  thousand  francs  each,  and  thirteen  of  five 
thousand  francs  each.  They  were  to  be  awarded  every  ten 
years  by  the  emperor  himself,  on  the  i8th  Brumaire.  The 
first  distribution  of  these  prizes  was  to  have  taken  place  in 
1809,  but  the  judges  could  not  agree  on  the  laureates ;  and 
before  a  conclusion  was  reached,  the  empire  had  fallen. 

In  literature  and  in  music,  as  in  art  and  science,  there  was 
a  renewal  of  activity.    A  circle  of  poets  and  writers  gathered 

♦  The  Volta  prize  has  been  awarded  only  three  or  four  times.  An 
award  of  particular  interest  to  Americans  was  that  made  in  1880  to  Dr. 
Alexander  Graham  Bell,  the  inventor  of  the  telephone.  The  amount 
of  the  prize  was  a  little  less  than  ten  thousand  dollars.  Dr.  Bell,  being 
already  in  affluent  circumstances,  upon  receiving  this  prize,  set  it  apart 
to  be  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  deaf,  in  whose  welfare  he  had  for  many 
years  taken  a  great  interest.  He  invested  it  in  another  invention  of  his, 
which  proved  to  be  very  profitable,  so  that  the  fund  came  to  amount  to 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  This  he  termed  the  Volta  Fund.  Some 
of  this  fund  has  been  applied  by  Dr.  Bell  to  the  organization  of  the  Volta 
Bureau,  which  collects  all  valuable  information  that  can  be  obtained  with 
reference  to  not  only  deaf-mutes  as  a  class,  but  to  deaf-mutes  in- 
dividually. Twenty-five  tFTousand  dollars  has  been  given  to  the  As- 
sociation for  the  Promotion  of  Teaching  Speech  to  the  Deaf.  Napoleon 
is  thus  indirectly  the  founder  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  valuable 
present  undertakings  of  the  country. 



about  the  First  Consul.  Paisiello  was  summoned  to  Paris 
to  direct  the  opera  and  conservatory  of  music.  There  was 
a  revival  of  dignity  and  taste  in  strong  contrast  to  the  license 
and  carelessness  of  the  Revolution.  The  incroyable  passed 
away.  The  Greek  costume  disappeared  from  the  street. 
Men  and  women  began  again  to  dress,  to  act,  to  talk,  ac- 
cording to  conventional  forms.  Society  recovered  its  sys- 
tematic ways  of  doing  things,  and  soon  few  signs  of  the 
general  dissolution  w^hich  had  prevailed  for  ten  years  were  to 
be  seen. 

Once  more  the  traveller  crossed  France  in  peace ;  peasant 
and  laborer  went  undisturbed  about  their  work,  and  slept 
without  fear.  Again  the  people  danced  in  the  fields  and 
"  sang  their  songs  as  they  had  in  the  days  before  the  Revo- 
lution." **  France  has  nothing  to  ask  from  Heaven,"  said 
Regnault  de  Saint  Jean  d'Angely,  **  but  that  the  sun  may 
continue  to  shine,  the  rain  to  fall  on  our  fields,  and  the  earth 
to  render  the  seed  fruitful." 

Painled  by  A.  Gerard  in  1803.     EnRravccI  by  Richomme  in  18.IS. 




IN  the  spring  of  1803  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  which  a  year 
before  had  ended  the  long  war  with  England,  was 
broken.  Both  countries  had  many  reasons  for  com- 
plaint. Napoleon  was  angry  at  the  failure  to  evacuate  Malta. 
The  perfect  freedom  allowed  the  press  in  England  gave  the 
pamphleteers  and  caricaturists  of  the  country  an  opportunity 
to  criticize  and  ridicule  him.  He  complained  bitterly  to  the 
English  ambassadors  of  this  free  press,  an  institution  in  his 
eyes  impractical  and  idealistic.  He  complained,  too,  of  the 
hostile  emigres  allowed  to  collect  in  Jersey ;  of  the  presence  in 
England  of  such  a  notorious  enemy  of  his  as  Georges  Cadou- 
dal ;  and  of  the  sympathy  and  money  the  Bourbon  princes  and 
many  nobles  of  the  old  regime  received  in  London  society. 
Then,  too,  he  regarded  the  country  as  his  natural  and  in- 
evitable enemy.  England  to  Napoleon  was  only  a  little 
island  which,  like  Corsica  and  Elba,  naturally  belonged  to 
France,  and  he  considered  it  part  of  his  business  to  get 
possession  of  her. 

England,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  with  distrust  at  the 
extension  of  Napoleon's  influence  on  the  Continent.  North- 
em  Italy,  Switzerland,  Holland,  Parma,  Elba,  were  under 
his  protectorate.  She  had  been  deeply  oflfended  by  a  report 
published  in  Paris,  on  the  condition  of  the  Orient,  in  which 
the  author  declared  that  with  six  thousand  men  the  French 
could  reconquer  Egypt;  she  resented  the  violent  articles  in 



the  official  press  of  Paris  in  answer  to  those  of  the  free  press 
of  England;  her  aristocratic  spirit  was  irritated  by  Na- 
poleon's success;  she  despised  this  panrnu,  this  "  Corsican 
scoundrel,*'  as  Nelson  called  him,  who  had  had  the  hardihood 
to  rise  so  high  by  other  than  the  conventional  methods  for 
getting  on  in  the  world  which  she  sanctioned. 

Real  and  fancied  aggressions  continued  throughout  the 
year  of  the  peace ;  and  when  the  l)reak  finally  came,  though 
both  nations  persisted  in  declaring  that  they  did  not  want 
war,  both  were  in  a  thoroughly  warlike  mood. 

Napoleon's  preparations  against  England  form  one  of 
the  most  picturesque  military  movements  in  his  career.  Un- 
able to  cope  with  his  enemy  at  sea,  he  conceived  the  auda- 
ious  notion  of  invading  the  island,  and  laying  siege  to  Lon- 
don itself.  The  plan  briefly  was  this — to  gather  a  great  army 
on  the  north  shore  of  France,  and  in  some  port  a  flotilla  suf- 
ficient to  transport  it  to  Great  Britain.  In  order  to  prevent 
interference  with  this  expedition,  he  would  keep  the  enemy's 
fleet  occupied  in  the  Mediterranean,  or  in  the  Atlantic,  until 
the  critical  moment.  Then,  leading  the  English  naval  com- 
mander by  stratagem  in  the  wrong  direction,  he  would  call 
his  own  fleet  to  the  Channel  to  protect  his  passage.  He 
counted  to  be  in  London,  and  to  have  compelled  the  English 
to  peace,  before  Nelson  could  return  from  the  chase  he 
would  have  led  him. 

The  preparations  began  at  once.  The  port  chosen  for  the 
flotilla  was  Boulogne;  but  the  whole  coast  from  Antwerp 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Seine  bristled  with  iron  and  bronze. 
Between  Calais  and  Boulogne,  at  Cape  Gris  Nez,  where  the 
navigation  was  the  most  dangerous,  the  batteries  literally 
touched  one  another.  Fifty  thousand  men  were  put  to 
work  at  the  stupenduous  excavations  necessary  to  make 
the  ports  large  enough  to  receive  the  flotilla.  Large  num- 
bers of  troops  were  brought  rapidly  into  the  neighborhood : 


fifty  thousand  men  to  Boulogne,  under  Soult;  thirty  thou- 
sand to  Etaples,  under  Ney;  thirty  thousand  to  Ostend, 
under  Davoust ;  reserves  to  Arras,  Amiens,  Saint-Omer. 

The  work  of  preparing  the  flat-bottomed  boats,  or  wal- 
nut-shells, as  the  English  called  them,  which  were  to  carry 
over  the  army,  went  on  in  all  the  ports  of  Holland  and 
France,  as  well  as  in  interior  towns  situated  on  rivers  lead- 
ing to  the  sea.  The  troops  were  taught  to  row,  each  sol- 
dier being  obliged  to  practise  two  hours  a  day  so  that  the 
rivers  of  all  the  north  of  France  were  dotted  with  land-lub- 
bers handling  the  oar,  the  most  of  them  for  the  first  time. 

In  the  summer  of  1803,  Napoleon  went  to  the  north  to 
look  after  the  work.  His  trip  was  one  long  ovation.  Le 
Chemin  d'Angleterre  was  the  inscription  the  people  of 
Amiens  put  on  the  triumphal  arch  erected  to  his  honor,  and 
town  vied  with  town  in  showing  its  joy  at  the  proposed 
descent  on  the  old-time  enemy. 

Such  was  the  interest  of  the  people,  that  a  thousand  pro- 
jects were  suggested  to  help  on  the  invasion,  some  of  them 
most  amusing.  In  a  learned  and  thoroughly  serious  me- 
morial, one  genius  proposed  that  while  the  flotilla  was  pre- 
paring, the  sailors  be  employed  in  catching  dolphins,  which 
should  be  shut  up  in  the  ports,  tamed,  and  taught  to  wear  a 
harness,  so  as  to  be  driven,  in  the  waier,  as  horses  are  on 
land.  This  novel  power  was  to  transport  the  French  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Channel. 

Napoleon  occupied  himself  not  only  with  the  preparations 
at  Boulogne  and  with  keeping  Nelson  busy  elsewhere. 
Every  project  which  could  possibly  facilitate  his  under- 
taking or  discomfit  his  enemies,  he  considered.  Fulton's 
diving-boat,  the  "  Nautilus,'*  and  his  submarine  torpedoes, 
were  at  that  time  attracting  the  attention  of  the  war  de- 
partments of  civilized  countries.  Already  Napoleon  had 
granted  ten  thousand  francs  to  help  the  inventor.    From  the 


camp  at  Boulogne  he  again  ordered  the  matter  to  be  looked 
into.  Fulton  promised  him  a  machine  which  **  would  deliver 
France  and  the  w^hole  world  from  British  oppression." 

"  I  have  just  read  the  project  of  Citizen  Fuhon,  engineer,  which  you 
have  sent  me  much  too  late,"  he  wrote,  **  since  it  is  one  that  may  change 
the  face  of  the  world.  Be  that  as  it  may.  I  desire  that  you  immediately 
confide  its  examination  to  a  commission  of  members  chosen  by  you 
among  the  different  classes  of  the  Institute.  There  it  is  that  learned 
Europe  would  seek  for  judges  to  resolve  the  question  under  consider- 
ation. A  great  truth,  a  physical,  palpable  truth,  is  before  my  eyes.  It 
will  be  for  these  gentlemen  to  try  and  seize  it  and  see  it.  As  soon  as 
their  report  is  made,  it  will  be  sent  to  you,  and  you  will  forward  it  to 
me.  Try  and  let  the  whole  be  determined  within  eight  days,  as  I  am 

He  had  his  eye  on  every  point  of  the  earth  where  he  might 
be  weak,  or  where  he  might  weaken  his  enemy.  He  took 
possession  of  Hanover.  The  Irish  were  promised  aid  in  their 
efforts  for  freedom.  **  Provided  that  twenty  thousand  united 
Irishmen  join  the  French  army  on  its  landing/*  France  is 
to  give  them  in  return  twenty-five  thousand  men,  forty 
thousand  muskets,  with  artillery  and  ammunition,  and  a 
promise  that  the  French  government  will  not  make  peace 
with  England  until  the  independence  of  Ireland  has  been 

An  attack  on  India  was  planned,  his  hope  being  that  the 
princes  of  India  would  welcome  an  invader  who  would  aid 
them  in  throwing  off  the  English  yoke.  To  strengthen  him- 
self in  the  Orient,  he  sought  by  letters  and  envoys  to  win  the 
confidence,  as  well  as  to  inspire  the  awe,  of  the  rulers  of 
Turkey  and  Persia. 

The  sale  of  Louisiana  to  the  United  States  dates  from 
this  time.  This  transfer,  of  such  tremendous  importance  to 
us,  was  made  by  Napoleon  purely  for  the  sake  of  hurting 
England.  France  had  been  in  possession  of  Louisiana  but 
three  years.  She  had  obtained  it  from  Spain  only  on  the 
condition  that  it  should  "  at  no  time,  under  no  pretext,  and 


in  no  manner,  be  alienated  or  ceded  to  any  other  power." 
The  formal  stipulation  of  the  treaties  forbade  its  sale.  But 
Napoleon  was  not  of  a  nature  to  regard  a  treaty,  if  the  in- 
terest of  the  moment  demanded  it  to  be  broken.  To  sell 
Louisiana  now  would  remove  a  weak  spot  from  France, 
upon  which  England  would  surely  fall  in  the  war.  More, 
it  would  put  a  great  territory,  which  he  could  not  control, 
into  the  hands  of  a  country  which,  he  believed,  would  some 
day  be  a  serious  hinderance  to  English  ambition.  He  sold 
the  colony  for  the  same  reason  that  former  French  govern- 
ments had  helped  the  United  States  in  her  struggles  for  in- 
dependence— to  cripple  England.  It  would  help  the  United 
States,  but  it  would  hurt  England.  That  was  enough ;  and 
with  characteristic  eagerness  he  hurried  through  the  nego- 

*'  I  have  just  given  England  a  maritime  rival  w^hich, 
sooner  or  later,  will  humble  her  pride,''  he  said  exultingly, 
when  the  convention  was  signed.  The  sale  brought  him 
twelve  million  dollars,  and  the  United  States  assumed  the 
French  spoliation  claims. 

This  sale  of  Louisiana  caused  one  c^f  the  first  violent 
quarrels  between  Lucien  Bonaparte  and  Napoleon.  Lucien 
had  negotiated  the  return  of  the  American  territory  to 
France  in  1800.  He  had  made  a  princely  fortune  out  of 
the  treaty,  and  he  was  very  proud  of  the  transaction;  and 
when  his  brother  Joseph  came  to  him  one  evening  in  hot 
haste,  w^ith  the  information  that  the  General  wanted  to  sell 
Louisiana,  he  hurried  around  to  the  Tuileries  in  the  morn- 
ing to  remonstrate. 

Napoleon  was  in  his  bath,  but,  in  the  mode  of  the  time,  he 
received  his  brothers.  He  broached  the  subject  himself,  and 
asked  Lucien  what  he  thought. 

"  I  flatter  myself  that  the  Chambers  will  not  give  their 


"  You  flatter  yourself?  "  said  Napoleon.  "  That's  good, 
I  declare." 

**  I  have  already  said  the  same  to  the  First  Consul,"  cried 

*' And  what  did  I  answer?"  said  Napoleon,  splashing 
around  indignantly  in  the  opaque  water. 

"  That  you  would  do  it  in  spite  of  the  Chambers." 

"  Precisely.  I  shall  do  it  without  the  consent  of  anyone 
whomsoever.    Do  you  understand?  " 

Joseph,  beside  himself,  rushed  to  the  bathtub,  and  declared 
that  if  Napoleon  dared  do  such  a  thing  he  would  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  an  opposition  and  crush  him  in  spite  of 
their  fraternal  relations.  So  hot  did  the  debate  grow  that 
the  First  Consul  sprang  up  shouting :  **  You  are  insolent ! 

I  ought "  but  at  that  moment  he  slipped  and  fell  back 

violently.  A  great  mass  of  perfumed  water  drenched  Joseph 
to  the  skin,  and  the  conference  broke  up. 

An  hour  later,  Lucien  met  his  brother  in  his  library,  and 
the  discussion  was  resumed,  only  to  end  in  another  scene. 
Napoleon  hurling  a  beautiful  snuff-box  upon  the  floor  and 
shattering  it,  while  he  told  Lucien  that  if  he  did  not  cease 
his  opposition  he  would  crush  him  in  the  same  way.  These 
violent  scenes  were  repeated,  but  to  no  purpose.  Louisiana 
was  sold. 

portrait  painlpd  hy  Gerj 

if  the  Emperor.    Engrayed  by  Desnoyers,  »fler 




WHILE  the  preparation  for  the  invasion  was  going 
on,  the  feeling  against  England  was  intensified 
by  the  discovery  of  a  plot  against  the  life  of  the 
First  Consul.  Georges  Cadoudal,  a  fanatical  royalist,  who 
was  accused  of  being  connected  with  the  plot  of  the  3d 
Nivose  (December  24),  and  who  had  since  been  in  England, 
had  formed  a  gigantic  conspiracy,  having  as  its  object  noth- 
ing less  than  the  assassination  of  Napoleon  in  broad  day- 
light, in  the  streets  of  Paris. 

He  had  secured  powerful  aid  to  carry  out  his  plan.  The 
Bourbon  princes  supported  him,  and  one  of  them  was  to  land 
on  the  north  coast  and  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  royalist 
sympathizers  as  soon  as  the  First  Consul  was  killed.  In  this 
plot  was  associated  Pichegru,  who  had  been  connected  with 
the  1 8th  Fructidor.  General  Moreau,  the  hero  of  Hohen- 
linden,  was  suspected  of  knowing  something  of  it. 

It  came  to  light  in  time,  and  a  general  arrest  was  made  of 
those  suspected  of  being  privy  to  it.  The  first  to  be  tried 
and  punished  was  the  Due  d'Enghien,  who  had  been  seized 
at  Ettenheim,  in  Baden,  a  short  distance  from  the  French 
frontier,  on  the  supposition  that  he  had  been  coming  secretly 
to  Paris  to  be  present  at  the  meetings  of  the  conspirators. 
His  trial  at  Vincennes  was  short,  his  execution  immediate. 
There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  Napoleon  had  no  sus- 
picion that  the  Due  d'Enghien  would  be  executed  so  soon  as 



he  was,  and  even  to  suppose  that  he  would  have  Hghtened 
the  sentence  if  the  punishment  had  not  been  pushed  on  with 
an  irregularity  and  inhumanity  that  recalls  the  days  of  the 

The  execution  was  a  severe  blow  to  Napoleon's  popu- 
larity, both  at  home  and  abroad.  Fouche's  cynical  remark 
was  just :  **  The  death  of  the  Due  d'Enghien  is  worse  than 
a  crime;  it  is  a  blunder/*  Chateaubriand,  who  had  accepted 
a  foreign  embassy,  resigned  at  once,  and  a  number  of  the  old 
aristocracy,  such  as  Pasquier  and  Mole,  w'ho  had  been  say- 
ing among  themselves  that  it  was  their  duty  to  support  Na- 
poleon's splendid  work  of  reorganization,  went  back  into 
obscurity.  .In  society  the  effect  was  distressing.  The  mem- 
bers of  Napoleon's  own  household  met  him  with  averted 
faces  and  sad  countenances,  and  Josephine  wept  until  he 
called  her  a  child  who  understood  nothing  of  politics. 
Abroad  there  was  a  revulsion  of  sympathy,  particularly  in 
the  cabinets  of  Russia,  Prussia,  and  Austria. 

The  trial  of  Cadoudal  and  Moreau  followed.  The  former 
with  several  of  his  accomplices  was  executed.  Moreau  was 
exiled  for  two  years.  Pichegru  committed  suicide  in  the 

This  plot  showed  Napoleon  and  his  friends  that  a  Jacobin 
or  royalist  fanatic  might  any  day  end  the  life  upon  which  the 
scheme  of  reorganization  depended.  It  is  true  he  had  already 
been  made  First  Consul  for  life  by  a  practically  unanimous 
vote,  but  there  was  need  of  strengthening  his  position  and 
providing  a  succession.  In  March,  six  days  after  the  death 
of  the  Due  d'Enghien,  the  Senate  proposed  to  him  that  he 
complete  his  work  and  take  the  throne.  In  April  the  Council 
of  State  and  the  Tribunate  took  up  the  discussion.  The 
opinion  of  the  majority  was  voiced  by  Regnault  de  Saint- 
Jean  d'Angely :  "  It  is  a  long  time  since  all  reasonable  men, 
all  true  friends  of  their  country,  have  wished  that  the  First 


Consul  would  make  himself  emperor,  and  reestablish,  in 
favor  of  his  family,  the  old  principles  of  hereditary  suc- 
cession. It  is  the  only  means  of  securing  permanency  for  his 
own  fortune,  and  to  the  men  whom  merit  has  raised  to  high 
offices.  The  Republic,  which  I  loved  passionately,  while  I 
detested  the  crimes  of  the  Revolution,  is  now  in  my  eyes  a 
mere  Utopia.  The  First  Consul  has  convinced  me  that  he 
wishes  to  possess  supreme  power  only  to  render  France 
great,  free,  and  happy,  and  to  protect  her  against  the  fury 
of  factions." 

The  Senate  soon  after  proceeded  in  a  body  to  the  Tuil- 
eries.  "  You  have  extricated  us  from  the  chaos  of  the  past," 
said  the  spokesman ;  ''  you  enable  us  to  enjoy  the  blessings 
of  the  present;  guarantee  to  us  the  future."  On  the  i8th 
of  May,  1804,  when  thirty-five  years  old,  Napoleon  was 
first  addressed  as  "  sire,"  and  congratulated  on  his  elevation 
to  the  throne  of  the  French  people. 

Immediately  his  household  took  on  the  forms  of  royalty. 
His  mother  was  Madame  Mere;  Joseph,  Grand- Elector, 
with  the  title  of  Imperial  Highness ;  Louis,  Constable,  with 
the  same  title ;  his  sisters  were  Imperial  Highnesses.  Titles 
were  given  to  all  officials;  the  ministers  were  excellencies; 
Cambaceres  and  Le  Brun,  the  Second  and  Third  Consuls, 
bcame  Arch  Chancellor  and  Arch  Treasurer  of  the  Empire. 
Of  his  generals,  Berthier,  Murat,  Moncey,  Jourdan,  Mas- 
sena,  Augureau,  Bernadotte,  Soult,  Brune,  Lannes,  Mortier, 
Ney,  Davoust,  and  Bessieres  were  made  marshals.  The  red 
button  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  was  scattered  in  profusion. 
The  title  of  citoyen,  which  had  been  consecrated  by  the  Revo- 
lution, was  dropped,  and  hereafter  everybody  was  called 

Two  of  Napoleon's  brothers,  unhappily,  had  no  part  in 
these  honors.  Jerome,  who  had  been  serving  as  lieutenant 
in  the  navy,  had,  in  1803,  while  in  the  United  States,  mar- 


ried  a  Miss  Elizabeth  Patterson  of  Baltimore.  Napoleon 
forbade  the  recording  of  the  marriage,  and  declared  it  void. 
As  Jerome  had  not  as  yet  given  up  his  wife,  he  had  no  share 
in  the  imperial  rewards.  Lucien  was  likewise  omitted,  and 
for  a  similar  reason.  His  first  wife  had  died  in  1801,  and 
much  against  Napoleon's  wishes  he  had  married  a  Madame 
Jouberthon,  to  whom  he  was  deeply  attached ;  nothing  could 
induce  him  to  renounce  his  wife  and  take  the  Queen  of 
Etruria,  as  Napoleon  wished.  The  result  of  his  refusal 
was  a  violent  quarrel  between  the  brothers,  and  Lucien  left 

This  rupture  was  certainly  a  grief  to  Napoleon.  Madame 
de  Remusat  draws  a  pathetic  little  picture  of  the  eflfect  upon 
him  of  the  last  interview  with  Lucien : 

'*  It  was  near  midnight  when  Bonaparte  came  into  the  room;  he  was 
deeply  dejected,  and,  throwing  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  troubled  voice,  *  It  is  all  over !  I  have  hroken  with  Lucien,  and 
ordered  him  from  my  presence.'  Madame  Bonaparte  began  to  ex- 
postulate. '  Vou  are  a  good  woman.'  he  said.  *  to  plead  for  him.'  Then 
he  rose  from  his  chair,  took  his  wife  in  his  arms,  and  laid  her  head  softly 
on  his  vshoulder,  and  with  his  hand  still  resting  on  the  beautiful  head, 
which  formed  a  contrast  to  the  sad,  set  countenance  so  near  it,  he  told 
us  that  Lucien  had  resisted  all  his  entreaties,  and  that  he  had  resorted 
equally  in  vain  to  both  threats  and  persuasion.  *  It  is  hard,  though,'  he 
added,  *  to  find  in  one's  own  family  such  stubborn  opposition  to  interests 
of  such  magnitude.  Must  I,  then,  isolate  myself  from  every  one?  Must 
I  rely  on  myself  alone?  Well !  I  will  suffice  to  myself;  and  you,  Jose- 
phine— you  will  be  my  comfort  always," 

A  fever  of  etiquette  seized  on  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
imperial  palace  of  Saint  Cloud.  The  ponderous  regulations 
of  Louis  XIV.  were  taken  down  from  tthe  shelves  in  the 
library,  and  from  them  a  code  began  to  be  compiled. 
Madame  Campan,  who  had  been  First  Bedchamber  Woman 
to  Marie  Antoinette,  was  summoned  to  interpret  the  solemn 
law,  and  to  describe  costumes  and  customs.  Monsieur  de 
Talleyrand,  W'ho  had  been  made  Grand  Chamberlain,  was  an 
authoritv  who  was  consulted  on  everything. 


"  We  all  felt  ourselves  more  or  less  elevated,"  says 
Madame  de  Remusat.  "  Vanity  is  ingenious  in  its  expec- 
tations, and  ours  were  unlimited.  Sometimes  it  was  disen- 
chanting, for  a  moment,  to  observe  the  almost  ridiculous 
effect  which  this  agitation  produced  upon  certain  classes  of 
society.  Those  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  our  brand  new 
dignities  said  with  Montaigne,  *  Let  us  avenge  ourselves  by 
railing  at  them.'  Jests,  more  or  less  witty,  and  puns,  more 
or  less  ingenious,  were  lavished  on  these  new-made  princes, 
and  somewhat  disturbed  our  brilliant  visions;  but  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  dare  to  censure  success  is  small,  and  flattery 
was  much  more  common  than  criticism." 

No  one  was  more  severe  in  matters  of  etiquette  than  Na- 
poleon himself.  He  studied  the  subject  with  the  same  at- 
tention that  he  did  the  civil  code,  and  in  much  the  same  way. 
'*  In  concert  with  Monsieur  de  Segur,"  he  wrote  De  Cham- 
pagny,  '*  you  must  write  me  a  report  as  to  the  way  in  which 
ministers  and  ambassadors  should  be  received.  ...  It 
will  be  well  for  you  to  enlighten  me  as  to  what  was  the 
practice  at  Versailles,  and  what  is  done  at  Vienna  and  St. 
Petersburg.  Once  my  regulations  adopted,  everyone  must 
conform  to  them.  I  am  master,  to  establish  what  rules  I 
like  in  France." 

He  had  some  difficulty  with  his  old  comrades-in-arms, 
who  were  accustomed  to  addressing  him  in  the  familiar 
second  singular,  and  calling  him  Bonaparte,  and  who  per- 
sisted, occasionally,  even  after  he  was  ''  sire,"  in  using  the 
language  of  easy  intimacy.  Lannes  was  even  removed  for 
some  time  from  his  place  near  the  emperor  for  an  indiscre- 
tion of  this  kind. 

In  August,  1804,  the  new  emperor  visited  Boulogne  to 
receive  the  congratulations  of  his  army  and  distribute  deco- 
rations. His  visit  was  celebrated  by  a  magnificent  fete. 
Those  who  know  the  locality  of  Boulogne,  remember,  north 


of  the  town,  an  amphitheatre-like  plain,  in  the  centre  of 
which  is  a  hill.  In  this  plain  sixty  thousand  men  were 
camped.  On  the  elevation  was  erected  a  throne.  Hereby 
stood  the  chair  of  Dagobert ;  behind  it  the  armor  of  Francis 
I. ;  and  around  rose  scores  of  blood-stained,  bullet-shot 
flags,  the  trophies  of  Italy  and  Egypt.  Beside  the  emperor 
was  the  helmet  of  Bayard,  filled  with  the  decorations  to  be 
distributed.  Up  and  down  the  coast  were  the  French  bat- 
teries; in  the  port  lay  the  flotilla;  to  the  right  and  left 
stretched  the  splendid  army. 

Just  as  the  ceremonies  were  finished,  a  fleet  of  over  a 
thousand  boats  came  sailing  into  the  harbor  to  join  those 
already  there,  while  out  in  the  Channel  English  officers  and 
sailors,  with  levelled  glasses,  watched  from  their  vessels  the 
splendid  armament,  which  was  celebrating  its  approaching 
descent  on  their  shores. 

On  December  ist  the  Senate  presented  the  emperor  the 
result  of  the  vote  taken  among  the  people  as  to  whether 
hereditary  succession  should  be  adopted.  There  were  two 
thousand  five  hundred  and  seventy-nine  votes  against;  three 
million  five  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  for — a  vote 
more  nearly  unanimous  than  that  for  the  life  consulate, 
there  being  something  like  nine  thousand  against  him  then. 

The  next  day  Napoleon  was  crowned  at  Notre  Dame.  The 
ceremony  was  prepared  with  the  greatest  care.  Grand 
Master  of  Ceremonies  de  Segur,  aided  by  the  painter  David, 
drew  up  the  plan  and  trained  the  court  with  great  severity 
in  the  etiquette  of  the  occasion.  He  had  the  widest  liberty, 
it  even  being  provided  that  **  if  it  be  indispensable,  in  order 
that  the  cortege  arrive  at  Notre  Dame  with  greater  facility, 
to  pull  down  some  houses,"  it  should  be  done.  By  a  master 
stroke  of  diplomacy  Napoleon  had  persuaded  Pope  Pius 
VII.  to  cross  the  Alps  to  perform  for  him  the  solemn  and 
ancient  service  of  coronation. 


Of  this  ceremony  we  have  no  better  description  than  that 
of  Madame  Junot : 

"  Who  that  saw  Notre  Dame  on  that  memorable  day  can  ever  forget 
it?  I  have  witnessed  in  that  venerable  pile  the  celebration  of  sumptuous 
and  solemn  festivals ;  but  never  did  I  see  anything  at  all  approximating 
in  splendor  the  spectacle  exhibited  at  Napoleon's  coronation.  The 
vaulted  roof  re-echoed  the  sacred  chanting  of  the  priests,  who  invoked 
the  blessing  of  the  Almighty  on  the  ceremony  about  to  be  celebrated, 
while  they  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  whose  throne  was 
prepared  near  the  altar.  Along  the  ancient  walls  covered  with  magnifi- 
cent tapestry  were  ranged,  according  to  their  rank,  the  different  bodies 
of  the  state,  the  deputies  from  every  city;  in  short,  the  representatives 
of  all  France  assembled  to  implore  the  benediction  of  Heaven  on  the 
sovereign  of  the  people's  choice.  The  waving  plumes  which  adorned 
the  hats  of  the  senators,  counsellors  of  state,  and  tribunes ;  the  splendid 
uniforms  of  the  military;  the  clergy  in  all  their  ecclesiastical  pomp;  and 
the  multitude  of  young  and  beautiful  women,  glittering  in  jewels,  and 
arrayed  in  that  style  of  grace  and  elegance  which  is  only  seen  in  Paris ; — 
altogether  presented  a  picture  which  has,  perhaps,  rarely  been  equalled, 
and  certainly  never  excelled. 

*'  The  Pope  arrived  first ;  and  at  the  moment  of  his  entering  the  Ca- 
thedral, the  anthem  Tu  es  Petrus  was  commenced.  His  Holiness  ad- 
vanced from  the  door  with  an  air  at  once  majestic  and  humble.  Ere 
long,  the  firing  of  a  cannon  announced  the  departure  of  the  procession 
from  the  Tuileries.  From  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  the  weather  had 
been  exceeding  unfavorable.  It  was  cold  and  rainy,  and  appearances 
seemed  to  indicate  that  the  procession  would  be  anything  but  agreeable 
to  those  who  joined  it.  But,  as  if  by  the  especial  favor  of  Providence, 
of  which  so  many  instances  are  observable  in  the  career  of  Napoleon, 
the  clouds  suddenly  dispersed,  the  sky  brightened  up.  and  the  multitudes 
who  lined  the  streets  from  the  Tuileries  to  the  Cathedral,  enjoyed  the 
sight  of  the  procession  without  being,  as  they  had  anticipated,  drenched 
by  a  December  rain.  Napoleon,  as  he  passed  along,  was  greeted  by 
heartfelt  expressions  of  enthusiastic  love  and  attachment. 

"  On  his  arrival  at  Notre  Dame,  Napoleon  ascended  the  throne,  which 
was  erected  in  front  of  the  grand  altar.  Josephine  took  her  place  be- 
side him,  surrounded  by  the  assembled  sovereigns  of  Europe.  Na- 
poleon appeared  singularly  calm.  I  watched  him  narrowly,  with  a  view 
of  discovering  whether  his  heart  beat  more  highly  beneath  the  imperial 
trappings  than  under  the  uniform  of  the  guards;  but  I  could  observe 
no  difference,  and  yet  I  was  at  the  distance  of  only  ten  paces  from  him. 
The  length  of  the  ceremony,  however,  seemed  to  weary  him ;  and  I  saw 
him  several  times  check  a  yawn.     Nevertheless,  he  did  everything  he  was 


required  to  do,  and  did  it  with  propriety.  When  the  Pope  anointed  him 
with  the  triple  unction  on  his  head  and  both  hands.  I  fancied,  from  the 
direction  of  his  eyes,  that  he  was  thinking  of  wiping  off  the  oil  rather 
than  of  anything  else ;  and  I  was  so  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  work- 
ings of  his  countenance,  that  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  was 
really  the  thought  that  crossed  his  mind  at  that  moment.  During  the 
ceremony  of  anointing,  the  Holy  Father  delivered  that  impressive  prayer 
which  concluded  with  these  words :  *  Diffuse,  O  Lord,  by  my  hands,  the 
treasures  of  your  grace  and  benediction  on  your  servant  Napoleon, 
whom,  in  spite  of  our  personal  unworthiness.  we  this  day  anoint  em- 
peror, in  your  name.'  Napoleon  listened  to  this  prayer  with  an  air  of 
pious  devotion;  but  just  as  the  Pope  was  about  to  take  the  crown,  called 
the  Crown  of  Charlemagne,  from  the  altar,  Napoleon  seized  it,  and 
placed  it  on  his  own  head.  At  that  moment  he  was  really  handsome, 
and  his  countenance  was  lighted  up  with  an  expression  of  which  no 
words  can  convey  an  idea. 

**  He  had  removed  the  wreath  of  laurel  which  he  wore  on  entering 
the  church,  and  which  encircles  his  brow  in  the  fine  picture  of  Gerard. 
The  crown  was,  perhaps,  in  itself,  less  becoming  to  him;  but  the  ex- 
pression excited  by  the  act  of  putting  it  on.  rendered  him  perfectly 

"When  the  moment  arrived  for  Josephine  to  take  an  active  part  in 
the  grand  drama,  she  descended  from  the  throne  and  advanced  to- 
wards the  altar,  where  the  emperor  awaited  her,  followed  by  her  retinue 
of  court  ladies,  and  having  her  train  borne  by  the  Princesses  Caroline, 
Julie,  Eliza,  and  Louis.  One  of  the  chief  beauties  of  the  Empress 
Josephine  was  not  merely  her  fine  figure,  but  the  elegant  turn  of  her 
neck,  and  the  way  in  which  she  carried  her  head ;  indeed,  her  deport- 
ment altogether  was  conspicuous  for  dignity  and  grace.  I  have  had  the 
honor  of  being  presented  to  many  real  princesses,  to  use  the  phrase  of 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  but  I  never  saw  one  who,  to  my  eyes,  pre- 
sented so  perfect  a  personification  of  elegance  and  majesty.  In  Na- 
poleon's countenance  I  could  read  the  conviction  of  all  I  have  just 
said.  He  looked  with  an  air  of  complacency  at  the  empress  as  she  ad- 
vanced towards  him;  and  when  she  knelt  down,  when  the  tears,  which 
she  could  not  repress,  fell  upon  her  clasped  hands,  as  they  were  raised 
to  Heaven,  or  rather  to  Napoleon,  both  then  appeared  to  enjoy  one  of 
those  fleeting  moments  of  pure  felicity  which  are  unique  in  a  lifetime, 
and  serve  to  fill  up  a  lustrum  of  years.  The  emperor  performed,  with 
peculiar  grace,  every  action  required  of  him  during  the  ceremony;  but 
his  manner  of  crowning  Josephine  was  most  remarkable :  after  receiving 
the  small  crown,  surmounted  by  the  cross,  he  had  first  to  place  it  on  his 
own  head,  and  then  to  transfer  it  to  that  of  the  empress.  When  the 
moment  arrived  for  placing  the  crown  on  the  head  of  the  woman  whom 


popular  superstition  regarded  as  his  good  genius,  his  manner  was  almost 
playful.  He  took  great  pains  to  arrange  this  little  crown,  which  was 
placed  over  Josephine's  tiara  of  diamonds ;  he  put  it  on,  then  took  it  off, 
and  finally  put  it  on  again,  as  if  to  promise  her  she  should  wear  it  grace- 
fully and  lightly." 

The  fate  of  France  had  no  sooner  been  settled,  as  Na- 
poleon believed,  than  it  became  necessary  to  decide  on  what 
should  be  done  with  Italy.  The  crown  was  offered  to 
Joseph,  who  refused  it.  He  did  not  want  to  renounce  his 
claim  to  that  of  France,  and  finally  Napoleon  decided  to 
take  it  himself.  A  new  constitution  w^as  prepared  for  the 
country  by  the  French  Senate,  and,  when  all  w^as  arranged, 
Napoleon  started  on  April  ist  for  Italy.  A  great  train  ac- 
companied him,  and  the  trip  was  of  especial  interest.  The 
party  crossed  the  Alps  by  Mont  Cenis,  and  the  road  was  so 
bad  that  the  carriages  had  to  be  taken  to  pieces  and  carried 
over,  while  the  travellers  walked.  This  trip  really  led  to  the 
fine  roads  which  now  cross  Mont  Cenis.  At  Alessandria  Na- 
poleon halted,  and  on  the  field  of  Marengo  ordered  a  re- 
view of  the  manoeuvres  of  the  famous  battle.  At  this  re- 
view he  even  wore  the  coat  and  hat  he  had  worn  on  that 
famous  day  four  years  before. 

By  the  time  the  imperial  party  was  ready  to  enter  Milan, 
on  May  13,  it  had  increased  to  a  triumphal  procession,  and 
the  entry  was  attended  by  most  enthusiastic  demonstra- 
tions. On  May  26  the  coronation  took  place.  The  iron 
crown,  used  so  long  for  the  coronation  of  the  Lombard 
kings,  had  been  brought  out  for  the  occasion.  When  the 
point  in  the  ceremony  was  reached  where  the  crown  was  to 
be  placed  on  Napoleon's  head,  he  seized  it,  and  with  his  own 
hands  placed  it  on  his  head,  repeating  in  a  loud  voice  the 
words  inscribed  on  the  crown :  "  God  gives  it  to  me ;  beware 
who  touches  it."  Josephine  was  not  crowned  Queen  of 
Italy,  but  watched  the  scene  from  a  gallery  above  the 


Napoleon  remained  in  Italy  for  another  month,  engaged 
in  settling  the  affairs  of  the  country.  The  order  of  the 
Crown  of  Iron  was  created,  the  constitution  settled.  Prince 
Eugene  was  made  viceroy,  and  Genoa  was  joined  to  the 



CAMPAIGN    OF    1805 CAMPAIGN    OF    1806-1807 PEACE   OF 


AUSTRIA  looked  with  jealousy  on  this  increase  of 
power,  a-nd  particularly  on  the  change  in  the  institu- 
tions of  her  neighbors.  In  assuming  control  of  the 
Italian  and  Germanic  States,  Napoleon  gave  the  people  his 
code  and  his  methods;  personal  liberty,  ecjuality  before  the 
law,  religious  toleration,  took  the  place  of  the  unjust  and  nar- 
row feudal  institutions.  These  new  ideas  were  quite  as  hate- 
ful to  Austria  as  the  disturbance  in  the  balance  of  pewer,  and 
more  dangerous  to  her  system.  Russia  and  Prussia  felt  the 
same  suspicion  of  Napoleon  as  Austria  did.  All  three 
powers  w^ere  constantly  incited  to  action  against  France  by 
England,  who  offered  unlimited  gold  if  they  would  but  com- 
bine with  her.  In  the  summer  of  1805  Austria  joined  Eng- 
land and  Russia  in  a  coalition  against  France.  Prussia  was 
not  yet  willing  to  commit  herself. 

The  great  army  which  for  so  many  months  had  been 
gathering  around  Boulogne,  preparing  for  the  descent  on 
England,  waited  anxiously  for  the  arrival  of  the  French 
fleet  to  cover  its  passage.  But  the  fleet  did  not  come :  and, 
though  hoping  until  the  last  that  his  plan  would  still  be 
carried  out.  Napoleon  quietly  and  swiftly  made  ready  to 
transfer  the  army  of  England  into  the  Grand  Army,  and 
to  turn  its  march  against  his  continental  enemies. 

Never  was  his  great  war  rule,  "  Time  is  everything,"  more 
thoroughly  carried  out.     "  Austria  will  employ  fine  phrases 



in  order  to  gain  time/'  he  wrote  Talleyrand,  "  and  to  pre- 
vent me  accomplishing  anything  this  year;  .  .  .  and  in 
April  I  shall  find  one  hundred  thousand  Russians  in  Poland, 
fed  by  England,  twenty  thousand  English  at  Malta,  and 
fifteen  thousand  Russians  at  Corfu.  I  should  then  be  in  a 
critical  position.  My  mind  is  made  up."  His  orders  flew 
from  Boulogne  to  Paris,  to  the  German  States,  to  Italy,  to 
his  generals,  to  his  naval  commanders.  By  the  28th  of 
August  the  whole  army  had  moved.  A  month  later  it  had 
crossed  the  Rhine,  and  Napoleon  was  at  its  head. 

The  force  which  he  commanded  was  in  every  w'ay  an  ex- 
traordinary one.  Marmont's  enthusiastic  description  was  in 
no  way  an  exaggeration  : 

**  This  army,  the  most  beautiful  that  was  ever  seen,  was  less  re- 
doubtable from  the  number  of  its  soldiers  than  from  their  nature. 
Almost  all  of  them  had  carried  on  war  and  had  won  victories.  There 
still  existed  among  them  something  of  the  enthusiasm  and  exaltation  of 
the  Revolutionary  campaigns;  but  this  enthusiasm  was  systematized. 
From  the  supreme  chief  down — the  chiefs  of  the  army  corps,  the  division 
commanders,  the  common  officers  and  soldiers — everybody  was  hardened 
to  war.  The  eighteen  months  in  splendid  camps  had  produced  a  train- 
ing, an  ensemble,  which  has  never  existed  since  to  the  same  degree  and 
a  boimdless  confidence.  This  army  was  probably  the  best  and  the  most 
redoubtable  that  modern  limes  have  seen." 

The  force  responded  to  the  imperious  genius  of  its  com- 
mander with  a  beautiful  precision  which  amazes  and  dazzles 
one  who  follows  its  march.  So  perfectly  had  all  been  ar- 
ranged, so  exactly  did  every  corps  and  officer  respond,  that 
nine  days  after  the  passage  of  the  Rhine,  the  army  was  in 
Bavaria,  several  marches  in  the  rear  of  the  enemy.  The 
weather  was  terrible,  but  nothing  checked  them.  The  em- 
'peror  himself  set  the  example.  Day  and  night  he  was  on 
horseback  in  the  midst  of  his  troops;  once  for  a  week  he 
did  not  take  oflf  his  boots.  When  they  lagged,  or  the  enemy 
harassed  them,  he  would  gather  each  regiment  into  a  circle, 
explain  to  it  the  position  of  the  enemy,  the  imminence  of  a 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1 805  1 65 

great  battle,  and  his  confidence  in  his  troops.  These  haran- 
gues sometimes  took  place  in  driving  snowstorms,  the 
soldiers  standing  up  to  their  knees  in  icy  slush.  By  October 
13th,  such  was  the  extraordinary  march  they  had  made, 
the  emperor  was  able  to  issue  this  address  to  the  army : 

"  Soldiers,  a  month  ago  we  were  encamped  on  the  shores  of  the 
ocean,  opposite  England,  when  an  impious  league  forced  us  to  fly  to  the 
Rhine.  Not  a  fortnight  ago  that  river  was  passed;  and  the  Alps,  the 
Neckar,  the  Danube,  and  the  Lech,  the  celebrated  barriers  of  Germany, 
have  not  for  a  minute  delayed  our  march.  .  .  .  The  enemy,  deceived 
by  our  manoeuvres  and  the  rapidity  of  our  movements,  is  entirely  turned. 
.  .  .  But  for  the  army  before  you,  we  should  be  in  London  to-day, 
have  avenged  six  centuries  of  insult,  and  have  liberated  the  sea. 

*•  Remember  to-morrow  that  you  are  fighting  against  the  allies  of 
England.     ...  "  Napoleon.'' 

Four  days  after  this  address  came  the  capitulation  of  Ulm 
— a  ''  new  Caudine  Forks/'  as  Marmont  called  it.  It  was, 
as  Napoleon  said,  a  victory  won  by  legs,  instead  of  by  arms. 
The  great  fatigue  and  the  forced  marches  which  the  army 
had  undergone  had  gained  them  sixty  thousand  prisoners, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  guns,  ninety  colors,  more  than 
thirty  generals,  at  a  cost  of  but  fifteen  hundred  men,  two- 
thirds  of  them  but  slightly  wounded. 

But  there  was  no  rest  for  the  army.  Before  the  middle 
of  November  it  had  so  surrounded  Vienna  that  the  emperor 
and  his  court  had  fled  to  Briinn,  seventy  or  eighty  miles 
north  of  Vienna,  to  meet  the  Russians,  who,  under  Alex- 
ander I.,  were  coming  from  Berlin.  Thither  Napoleon 
followed  them,  but  the  Austrians  retreated  eastward,  join- 
ing the  Russians  at  Olmiitz.  The  combined  force  of  the 
allies  was  now  some  ninety  thousand  men.  They  had  a 
strong  reserve,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  Prussian  army  w^ 
about  to  join  them.  Napoleon  at  Brunn  had  only  some 
seventy  or  eighty  thousand  men,  and  was  in  the  heart  of 
the  enemy's  country.    Alexander,  flattered  by  his  aides,  and 

Engrived   in    1S12    liy    M: 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  167 

confident  that  he  was  able  to  defeat  the  French,  resolved 
to  leave  his  strong  position  at  Olmiitz  and  seek  battle  with 

The  position  the  French  occupied  can  be  understood  if 
one  draws  a  rough  diagram  of  a  right-angled  triangle, 
Briinn  being  at  the  right  angle  formed  by  two  roads,  one 
running  south  to  Vienna,  by  which  Napoleon  had  come, 
and  the  other  running  eastward  to  Olmutz.  The  hypot- 
enuse of  this  angle,  running  from  northeast  to  southwest,  is 
formed  by  Napoleon's  army. 

When  the  allies  decided  to  leave  Olmutz  their  plan  was 
to  march  southwestward,  in  face  of  Napoleon's  line,  get  be- 
tween him  and  Vienna,  and  thus  cut  oflf  what  they  supposed 
was  his  base  of  supplies  (in  this  they  were  mistaken,  for 
Napoleon  had,  unknown  to  them,  changed  his  base  from 
Vienna  to  Bohemia),  separate  him  from  his  Italian  army,  and 
drive  him,  routed,  into  Bohemia. 

On  the  27th  of  November  the  allies  advanced,  and  their 
first  encounter  with  a  small  French  vanguard  was  successful. 
It  gave  them  confidence,  and  they  continued  their  march  on 
the  28th,  29th,  and  30th,  gradually  extending  a  long  line 
facing  westward  and  parallel  with  Napoleon's  line.  The 
French  emperor,  while  this  movement  was  going  on,  was 
rapidly  calling  up  his  reserves  and  strengthening  his  posi- 
tion. By  the  first  day  of  December  Napoleon  saw  clearly 
what  the  allies  intended  to  do,  and  had  formed  his  plan. 
The  events  of  that  day  confirmed  his  ideas.  By  nine  o'clock 
in  the  evening  he  was  so  certain  of  the  plan  of  the  coming 
battle  that  he  rode  the  length  of  his  line,  explaining  to  his 
troops  the  tactics  of  the  allies,  and  what  he  himself  pro- 
posed to  do. 

Napoleon's  appearance  before  the  troops,  his  confident 
assurance  of  victory,  called  out  a  brilliant  demonstration 
from  the  army.    The  divisions  of  infantry  raised  bundles  of 

T   -.^    -    ^sT  >'les,  giving  him  an 

..-  -  vel.     It  was  a  hapj))' 

-    -r  jtt:  ••r'sarv  of  his  coronation. 

....-:     •     -••  ^i3lC  all  night.     At   four 

...^        •-  - :    :  December  he  was  in  the 

^    r'^i  he  saw  the  enemy's  divis- 

_       .-    -»:   :^'i  divined.     Three  coq)s 

-  \  r^T   j>art    of    the    hypotenuse. 

•.cr«::i  p«.">sition  facing  his  centre. 

-   r-rr-  >.ai.1  left  their  centre  weak  and 

<r!  ;iri:i^:  the  body  of  the  army  from 

..-■•-    eft.     The  enemv  was  in  ex- 

..:•  er.    wished    for    the    attack    he 

.X   r  :he  morning  when  the  emperor 

T     •.-  c  a-.r:ing  to  the  army  that  the  enemy 

-V  :    ;:*•■  ^"'>i"g  otit:  "  Close  the  campaign 

•  c'-        The  generals  nxle  to  their  posi- 

,.T  t  •drtie  opened.    Soult,  who  commanded 

r    .:':'i<'<t^\  the  allies'  centre  so  iine.xpectedly 

■  c"    ••:'  retreat.     The  Emperor  Alexander 

v.*  .   i  '^''^  •^■«^^'?  i"  ^his  part  of  the  army,  and 

^       .'-^  -nr  lid  his  lest  to  rouse  his  forces,  it  was 

"  ^^^    ..j^     r>r  Russian  centre  was  defeated  and  the 

-.^,      V:  :!"e  <anie  time  the  allies'  left,  where  the 

^        i^»i    irrv  was  massed  in  a  marshy  country  of 

.^»   crt:*^  >">.  ^vas  engaged  and  held  in  check  by 

.»^.    '^fT  richt  was  *n-ercome  by  Lannes.  Murat, 

:^>HiK.Kir<      \>  >*^'"  ^^  t'lc  centre  and  right  of  the 

.^^   xv?    -rxcn  into  retreat.  Napoleon  concentrated 

..^.t^   »»  ""^*'  ■^*"'  ^'^^*  strongest  part  of  his  enemy.    In 

^  ^s  »•    •  'V  :'":o  aV.ios  were  driven  back  into  the  canals 

.  ►^    •     :'*^  v^vuntry.  and  many  men  and  nearly  all 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  169 

the  artillery  lost.  Before  night  the  routed  enemy  had  fallen 
back  10  Austerlitz. 

Of  all  Napoleon's  battles.  Austerlitz  was  the  one  of  which 
he  was  the  proudest.  It  was  here  that  he  showed  best  the 
"  divine  side  of  war." 

The  familiar  note  in  which  Napoleon  announced  to  his 
brother  Joseph  the  result  of  the  battle,  is  a  curious  contrast 
to  the  oratorical  bulletins  which  for  some  days  flowed  to 
Paris.     His  letter  is  dated  Austerlitz,  December  3,  1805 : 

*'  After  manoeuvring  for  a  few  days  I  fought  a  decisive  battle  yester- 
day. I  defeated  the  combined  armies  commanded  by  the  Emperors  of 
Russia  and  Germany.  Their  force  consisted  of  eighty  thousand  Rus- 
sians and  thirty  thousand  Austrians.  I  have  made  forty  thousand 
prisoners,  taken  forty  flags,  one  hundred  guns,  and  all  the  standards  of 
the  Russian  Imperial  Guard.  .  .  .  Although  I  have  bivouacked  in 
the  open  air  for  a  week,  my  health  is  good.  This  evening  I  am  in  bed 
in  the  beautiful  castle  of  Monsieur  de  Kaunitz.  and  have  changed  my 
shirt  for  the  first  time  in  eight  days.** 

The  battle  of  Austerlitz  obliged  Austria  to  make  peace  (the 
treaty  was  signed  at  Presburg  on  December  26,  1805),  com- 
pelled Russia  to  retiredisabled  from  the  field, transformed  the 
haughty  Prussian  ultimatim  which  had  just  been  presented 
into  humble  submission,  and  changed  the  rejoicings  of 
England  over  the  magnificent  naval  victory  of  Trafalgar 
(October  21st)  into  despair.  It  even  killed  Pitt.  Napoleon 
it  enabled  to  make  enormous  strides  in  establishing  a 
kingdom  of  the  West.  Naples  was  given  to  Joseph,  the 
Bavarian  Republic  was  made  a  kingdom  for  Louis,  and  the 
states  between  the  Lahn,  the  Rhine,  and  the  Upper  Danube 
were  formed  into  a  league,  called  the  Confederation  of  the 
Rhine,  and  Napoleon  was  made  Protector. 

At  the  beginning  of  1806  Napoleon  was  again  in  Paris. 
He  had  been  absent  but  three  months.  Eight  months  of  this 
year  were  spent  in  fruitless  negotiations  with  England  and 
in  an  irritating  correspondence  with  Prussia.     The  latter 



blazing  straw  on  the  ends  of  long  poles,  giving  him  an 
illumination  as  imposing  as  it  was  novel.  It  was  a  happy 
thought,  for  the  day  was  the  anniversary  of  his  coronation. 

The  emperor  remained  in  bivouac  all  night.  At  four 
o'clock  of  the  morning  of  the  2d  of  December  he  was  in  the 
saddle.  When  the  gray  fog  lifted  he  saw  the  enemy's  divis- 
ions arranged  exactly  as  he  had  divined.  Three  corps 
faced  his  right — the  southwest  part  of  the  hypotenuse. 
These  corps  had  left  a  splendid  position  facing  his  centre, 
the  heights  of  Pratzen. 

This  advance  of  the  enemy  had  left  their  centre  weak  and 
unprotected,  and  had  separated  the  body  of  the  army  from 
its  right,  facing  Napoleon's  left.  The  enemy  was  in  ex- 
actly the  position  Napoleon  wished  for  the  attack  he 
had  planned. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  emperor 
galloped  up  his  line,  proclaiming  to  the  army  that  the  enemy 
had  exposed  himself,  and  crying  out:  *'  Close  the  campaigTi 
with  a  clap  of  thunder."  The  generals  rode  to  their  posi- 
tions, and  at  once  the  battle  opened.  Soult,  who  commanded 
the  French  centre,  attacked  the  allies'  centre  so  unexpectedly 
that  it  was  driven  into  retreat.  The  Emperor  Alexander 
and  his  headquarters  were  in  this  part  of  the  army,  and 
though  the  young  czar  did  his  best  to  rouse  his  forces,  it  was 
a  hopeless  task.  The  Russian  centre  was  defeated  and  the 
wings  divided.  At  the  same  time  the  allies'  left,  where  the 
bulk  of  their  army  was  massed  in  a  marshy  country  of 
which  they  knew  little,  was  engaged  and  held  in  check  by 
Davoust,  and  their  right  was  overcome  by  Lannes,  Murat, 
and  Bemadotte.  As  soon  as  the  centre  and  right  of  the 
allies  had  been  driven  into  retreat,  Napoleon  concentrated 
his  forces  on  their  left,  the  strongest  part  of  his  enemy.  In 
a  verv  short  time  the  allies  were  driven  back  into  the  canals 
and  lakes  of  the  country,  and  many  men  and  nearly  all 

W         thft!i  ail 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  171 

had  many  grievances  against  Napoleon,  the  sum  of 
thft!i  ail  being  that  "  French  politics  had  been  the  scourge 
lanity  for  the  last  fifteen  years,"  and  that  an  "  in- 
satiable ambition  was  still  the  ruling  passion  of  France." 
By  the  end  of  September  war  was  declared,  and  Napoleon, 
whose  preparations  had  been  conducted  secretly,  it  being 
given  out  that  he  was  going  to  Compiegne  to  hunt,  suddenly 
joined  his  army. 

The  first  week  of  October  the  Grand  Army  advanced  from 
southern  Germany  towards  the  valley  of  the  Saale.  This 
movement  brought  them  on  the  flanks  of  the  Prussians,  who 
were  scattered  along  the  upper  Saale.  The  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  the  French  army,  which  was  larger  and  much 
better  organized  than  the  Prussians,  caused  the  latter  to 
retreat  towards  the  Elbe.  The  retreating  army  was  in  two 
divisions ;  the  first  crossing  the  Saale  to  Jena,  the  second 
falling  back  towards  the  Unstrut.  As  soon  as  Napoleon 
understood  these  movements  he  despatched  part  of  his  force 
under  Davoust  and  Bernadotte  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the 
second  Prussian  division,  while  he  himself  hurried  on  to 
Jena  to  force  battle  on  the  first.  The  Prussians  were  en- 
camped at  the  foot  of  a  height  known  as  the  Landgrafen- 
berg.  To  command  this  height  was  to  command  the  Prus- 
sian forces.  By  a  series  of  determined  and  repeated  efforts 
Napoleon  reached  the  position  desired,  and  by  the  morning 
of  the  14th  of  October  had  his  foes  in  his  power.  Ad- 
vancing from  the  Landgrafenberg  in  three  divisions,  he 
turned  the  Prussian  flanks  at  the  same  moment  that  he  at- 
tacked their  centre.  The  Prussians  never  fought  better, 
perhaps,  than  at  Jena.  The  movements  of  their  cavalry 
awakened  even  Napoleon's  admiration,  but  they  were  sur- 
rounded and  outnumbered,  and  the  army  was  speedily 
broken  into  pieces  and  driven  into  a  retreat. 

While  Napoleon  was  fighting  at  Jena,  to  the  right  at 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  171 

country  had  many  grievances  against  Napoleon,  the  sum  of 
them  all  being  that  **  French  politics  had  been  the  scourge 
of  humanity  for  the  last  fifteen  years,"  and  that  an  ''  in- 
satiable ambition  was  still  the  ruling  passion  of  France/* 
By  the  end  of  September  war  was  declared,  and  Napoleon, 
whose  preparations  had  been  conducted  secretly,  it  being 
given  out  that  he  was  going  to  Compiegne  to  hunt,  suddenly 
joined  his  army. 

The  first  week  of  October  the  Grand  Army  advanced  from 
southern  Germany  towards  the  valley  of  the  Saale.  This 
movement  brought  them  on  the  flanks  of  the  Prussians,  who 
were  scattered  along  the  upper  Saale.  The  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  the  French  army,  which  was  larger  and  much 
better  organized  than  the  Prussians,  caused  the  latter  to 
retreat  towards  the  Elbe.  The  retreating  army  was  in  two 
divisions;  the  first  crossing  the  Saale  to  Jena,  the  second 
falling  back  towards  the  Unstrut.  As  soon  as  Napoleon 
understood  these  movements  he  despatched  part  of  his  force 
under  Davoust  and  Bernadotte  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the 
second  Prussian  division,  while  he  himself  hurried  on  to 
Jena  to  force  battle  on  the  first.  The  Prussians  were  en- 
camped at  the  foot  of  a  height  known  as  the  Landgrafen- 
berg.  To  command  this  height  was  to  command  the  Prus- 
sian forces.  By  a  series  of  determined  and  repeated  efforts 
Napoleon  reached  the  position  desired,  and  by  the  morning 
of  the  14th  of  October  had  his  foes  in  his  power.  Ad- 
vancing from  the  Landgrafenberg  in  three  divisions,  he 
turned  the  Prussian  flanks  at  the  same  moment  that  he  at- 
tacked their  centre.  The  Prussians  never  fought  better, 
perhaps,  than  at  Jena.  The  movements  of  their  cavalry 
awakened  even  Napoleon's  admiration,  but  they  were  sur- 
rounded and  outnumbered,  and  the  army  was  speedily 
broken  into  pieces  and  driven  into  a  retreat. 

While  Napoleon  was  fighting  at  Jena,  to  the  right  at 


Auerstadt,  Davoust  was  engaging  Brunswick  and  his 
seventy  thousand  men  with  a  force  of  twenty-seven  thous- 
sand.  In  spite  of  the  great  difference  in  numbers  the  Prus- 
sians were  unable  to  make  any  impression  on  the  French; 
and  Brunswick  falling,  they  began  to  retreat  towards  Jena, 
expecting  to  join  the  other  division  of  the  army,  of  whose 
route  they  were  ignorant.  The  result  was  frightful.  The 
two  flying  armies  suddenly  encountered  each  other,  and, 
pursued  by  the  French  on  either  side,  were  driven  in  con- 
fusion towards  the  Elbe. 

On  October  25th  the  French  were  at  Berlin.  Their  entry 
was  one  of  the  great  spectacles  of  the  campaign.  One  par- 
ticularly interesting  incident  was  the  visit  paid  to  Napoleon 
by  the  Protestant  and  Calvinist  French  clergy.  There 
were  at  that  time  twelve  thousand  French  refugees  in  Berlin, 
victims  of  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  They  were 
received  with  kindness  by  Napoleon,  who  told  them  they  had 
good  right  to  protection,  and  that  their  privileges  and  wor- 
ship should  be  respected. 

Jena  brought  Napoleon  something  like  one  hundred  and 
sixty  million  francs  in  money,  an  enormous  number  of 
prisoners,  guns,  and  standards,  the  glory  of  the  entry  of 
Berlin,  and  a  great  number  of  interesting  articles  for  the 
Napoleon  Museum  of  Paris,  among  them  the  column  from 
the  field  of  Rosbach,  the  sword,  the  ribbon  of  the  black  eagle, 
and  the  general's  sash  of  Frederick  the  Great,  and  the  flags 
carried  by  his  guards  during  the  Seven  Years'  War.  But 
it  did  not  secure  him  peace.  The  King  of  Prussia  threw 
himself  into  the  arms  of  Russia,  and  Napoleon  advanced 
boldly  into  Poland  to  meet  his  enemy. 

The  Poles  welcomed  the  French  with  joy.  They  hoped 
to  find  in  Napoleon  the  liberator  of  their  country,  and  they 
poured  forth  money  and  soldiers  to  reenforce  him.  "  Our 
entry  into  Varsovia,"  wrote  Napoleon,  "  was  a  triumph. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  173 

and  the  sentiments  that  the  Poles  of  all  classes  show  since 
our  arrival  cannot  be  expressed.  Love  of  country  and  the 
national  sentiment  are  not  only  entirely  conserved  in  the 
heart  of  the  people,  but  it  has  been  intensified  by  misfor- 
tune. Their  first  passion,  their  first  desire,  is  again  to  be- 
come a  nation.  The  rich  come  from  their  chateaux,  praying 
for  the  reestablishment  of  the  nation,  and  offering  their 
children,  their  fortunes,  and  their  influence."  Everything 
was  done  during  the  months  the  French  remained  in  Poland, 
to  flatter  and  aid  the  army. 

The  campaign  against  the  Russians  was  carried  on  in 
Old  Prussia,  to  the  southeast  of  the  Gulf  of  Dantzic.  Its 
first  great  engagement  was  the  battle  of  Eylau  on  February 
8,  1807.  This  was  the  closest  drawn  battle  Napoleon  had 
ever  fought.  His  loss  was  enormous,  and  he  was  saved 
only  by  a  hair's-breadth  from  giving  the  enemy  the  field  of 
battle.  After  Eylau  the  main  army  w^ent  into  winter  quar- 
ters to  repair  its  losses,  while  Marshal  Lefebvre  besieged 
Dantzic,  a  siege  which  military  critics  declare  to  be,  after 
Sebastopol,  the  most  celebrated  of  modern  times.  Dantzic 
capitulated  in  May.  On  June  14th  the  battle  of  Friedland 
was  fought.  This  battle  on  the  anniversary  of  Marengo,  was 
won  largely  by  Napoleon's  taking  advantage  of  a  blunder 
of  his  opponent.  The  French  and  the  Russian  armies  were 
on  the  opposite  banks  of  the  Alle.  Benningsen,  the  Russian 
commander,  was  marching  towards  Konigsberg  by  the  east- 
ern bank.  Napoleon  was  pursuing  by  the  western  bank. 
The  French  forces,  however,  were  scattered;  and  Benning- 
sen, thinking  that  he  could  engage  and  easily  rout  a  portion 
of  the  army  by  crossing  the  river  at  Friedland,  suddenly  led 
his  army  across  to  the  western  bank.  Napoleon  utilized 
this  unwise  movement  with  splendid  skill.  Calling  up  his 
re-enforcements  he  attacked  the  enemy  solidly.  As  soon  as 
the  Russian  centre  was  broken,  defeat  was  inevitable,  for 


.wurred  June  »6.  1807. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  i805  175 

the  retreating  army  was  driven  into  the  river,  and  thou- 
sands lost.  Many  were  pursued  through  the  streets  of 
Friedland  by  the  French,  and  slaughtered  there.  The  battle 
was  hardly  over  when  Napoleon  wrote  to  Josephine : 

"  Friedland,  15th  June,  1807. 

"My  Dear:  I  write  you  only  a  few  words,  for  I  am  very  tired. 
I  have  been  bivouacking  for  several  days.  My  children  have  worthily 
celebrated  the  anniversary  of  Marengo.  The  battle  of  Friedland  will 
be  just  as  celebrated  and  as  glorious  for  my  people.  The  whole  Russian 
army  routed  eighty  guns  captured,  thirty  thousand  men  taken  prisoners 
or  killed,  with  twenty-five  generals ;  the  Russian  guard  annihilated :  it  is 
the  worthy  sister  of  Marengo,  Austerlitz,  and  Jena.  The  bulletin  will 
tell  you  the  rest.  My  loss  is  not  large.  I  successfully  out-manoeuvred 
the  enemy.  "  Napoleon." 

Friedland  ended  the  war.  Directly  after  the  battle  Na- 
poleon went  to  Tilsit,  which  for  the  time  was  made  neutral 
ground,  and  here  he  met  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the 
King  of  Prussia,  and  the  map  of  Europe  was  made  over. 

The  relations  between  the  royal  parties  seem  to  have  been 
for  the  most  part  amiable.  Napoleon  became  very  fond  of 
Alexander  I.  at  Tilsit.  "  Were  he  a  woman  I  think  I  should 
make  love  to  him/*  he  wrote  Josephine  once.  Alexander, 
young  and  enthusiastic,  had  a  deep  admiration  for  Na- 
poleon's genius,  and  the  two  became  good  comrades.  The 
King  of  Prussia,  overcome  by  his  losses,  was  a  sorrowful 
figure  in  their  company.  It  was  their  habit  at  Tilsit  to  go 
out  every  day  on  horseback,  but  the  king  was  awkward, 
always  crowding  against  Napoleon,  beside  whom  he  rode, 
and  making  his  two  companions  wait  for  him  to  climb  from 
the  saddle  when  he  returned.  Their  dinners  together  were 
dull,  and  the  emperors,  very  much  in  the  style  of  two  care- 
less, fun-loving  youths,  bored  by  a  solemn  elderly  relative, 
were  accustomed  after  dinner  to  make  excuses  to  go  home 
early  but  later  to  meet  at  the  apartments  of  one  or  the  other, 
and  to  talk  together  until  after  midnight. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1805  177 

Just  before  the  negotiation  were  completed,  Queen  Louise 
arrived,  and  tried  to  use  her  influence  with  Napoleon  to 
obtain  at  least  Magdeburg.  Napoleon  accused  the  queen  to 
Las  Cases  of  trying  to  win  him  at  first  by  a  scene  of  high 
tragedy.  But  when  they  came  to  meet  at  dinner,  her  policy 
was  quite  another.  "  The  Queen  of  Prussia  dined  with  me 
to-day,"  w  rote  Napoleon  to  the  empress  on  July  7th.  *'  I 
had  to  defend  myself  against  being  obliged  to  make  some 
further  concessions  to  her  husband  ;...'*  and  the  next 
day,  "  The  Queen  of  Prussia  is  really  charming;  she  is  full 
of  coquetteric  towards  me.  But  do  not  be  jealous;  I  am 
an  oilcloth,  off  which  all  that  runs.  It  would  cost  me  too 
dear  to  play  the  galant," 

The  intercessions  of  the  queen  really  hurried  on  the  treaty. 
When  she  learned  that  it  had  been  signed,  and  her  wishes 
not  granted,  she  was  indignant,  wept  bitterly,  and  refused 
to  go  to  the  second  dinner  to  which  Napoleon  had  invited 
her.  Alexander  was  obliged  to  go  himself  to  decide  her. 
After  the  dinner,  when  she  withdrew.  Napoleon  accom- 
panied her.    On  the  staircase  she  stopped. 

"  Can  it  be,"  she  said,  "  that  after  I  have  had  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  so  near  me  the  man  of  the  age  and  of  history, 
I  am  not  to  have  the  liberty  and  satisfaction  of  assuring  him 
that  he  has  attached  me  for  life?    ..." 

**  Madame,  I  am  to  be  pitied,"  said  the  emperor  gravely. 
"  It  is  my  evil  star." 

By  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  the  map  of  the  continent  was  trans- 
formed. Prussia  lost  half  her  territory.  Dantzic  was  made 
a  free  town.  Magdeburg  went  to  France.  Hesse-Cassel 
and  the  Prussian  possessions  west  of  the  Elbe  w-ent  to  form 
the  kingdom  of  Westphalia.  The  King  of  Saxony  received 
the  grand  duchy  of  Warsaw.  Finland  and  the  Danubian 
principalities  were  to  go  to  Alexander  in  exchange  for  cer- 
tain Ionian  islands  and  the  Gulf  of  Cattaro  in  Dalmatia. 


Of  far  more  importance  than  this  change  of  boundaries 
was  the  private  understanding  which  the  emperors  came  to  at 
Tilsit.  They  agreed  that  the  Ottoman  Empire  was  to  re- 
main as  it  was  unless  they  saw  fit  to  change  its  boundaries. 
Russia  might  occupy  the  principaHties  as  far  as  the  Danube. 
Peace  was  to  be  made,  if  possible,  with  England,  and  the 
two  powers  were  to  work  together  to  bring  it  about.  If 
they  failed,  Russia  was  to  force  Sweden  to  close  her  ports 
to  Great  Britain,  and  Napoleon  was  to  do  the  same  in  Den- 
mark, Portugal,  and  the  States  of  the  Pope.  Nothing  was 
to  be  done  about  Poland  by  Napoleon. 

According  to  popular  belief,  the  secret  treaty  of  Tilsit  in- 
cluded plans  much  more  startling :  the  two  emi)erors  pledged 
themselves  to  drive  the  Bourbons  from  Spain  and  the  Bra- 
ganzas  from  Portugal,  and  to  replace  them  by  Bonapartes; 
give  Russia  Turkey  in  Eur()i)e  and  as  much  of  Asia  as  she 
wanted ;  end  the  temporal  power  of  the  Pope ;  place  France 
in  Egypt;  shut  the  English  from  the  Mediterranean;  and 
to  undertake  several  other  equally  ambitious  enterprises. 



NAPOLEON'S  influence  in  Europe  was  now  at  its 
zenith.  He  was  literally  **  king  of  kings,"  as  he 
was  popularly  called,  and  the  Bonaparte  family 
was  rapidly  displacing  the  Bourbon.  Joseph  had  been  made 
King  of  Naples  in  1806.  Eliza  was  Princess  of  Lucques 
and  Piombino.  Louis,  married  to  Hortense,  had  been  King 
of  Holland  since  1806.  Pauline  had  been  the  Princess  Bor- 
ghese  since  1803;  Caroline,  the  wife  of  Murat,  was  Grand 
Duchess  of  Cleves  and  Berg;  Jerome  was  King  of  West- 
phalia ;  Eugene  de  Beauharnais,  Viceroy  of  Italy,  was  mar- 
ried to  a  princess  of  Bavaria. 

The  members  of  Napoleon's  family  were  elevated  only  on 
condition  that  they  act  strictly  in  accordance  with  his  plans. 
They  must  marry  so  as  to  cement  the  ties  necessary  to  his 
kingdom.  They  must  arrange  their  time,  form  their  friend- 
ships, spend  their  money,  as  it  best  served  the  interests  of 
his  great  scheme  of  conquest.  The  interior  affairs  of  their 
kingdoms  were  in  reality  centralized  in  his  hands  as  perfectly 
as  those  of  France.  He  watched  the  private  and  public  con- 
duct of  his  kings  and  nobles,  and  criticised  them  with  ab- 
solute frankness  and  extraordinarv  common  sense.  The 
ground  on  which  he  protected  them  is  well  explained  in  the 
following  letter,  written  in  January,  1806,  to  Count  Miot 
de  Melito : 

**  You  are  going  to  rejoin  my  brother.    You  will  tell  him  that  I  have 
made  him  King  of  Naples;  that  he  will  continue  to  be  Grand  Elector, 


ingravtd  \>y  C.   S.  Pradicr  in  iBij.  after  Ci 


and  that  nothing  will  be  changed  as  regards  his  relations  with  France. 
But  impress  upon  him  that  the  least  hesitation,  the  slightest  wavering, 
will  ruin  him  entirely.  I  have  another  person  in  my  mind  who  will  re- 
place him  should  he  refuse.  ...  At  present  all  feelings  of  affection 
yield  to  state  reasons.  I  recognize  only  those  who  serve  me  as  relations. 
My  fortune  is  not  attached  to  the  nstrffe  6f  Bonaparte,  but  to  that  of  Na- 
poleon. It  is  with  my  fingers  and  with  fny  pen  that  I  make  children. 
To-day  I  can  love  only  those  whom  I  esteem.  Joseph  must  forget  all 
our  ties  of  childhood.  Let  him  make  himself  esteemed.  Let  him  ac- 
quire glory.  Let  him  have  a  leg  broken  in  battle.  Then  I  shall  esteem 
him.  I-et  him  give  up  his  old  ideas.  Let  him  not  dread  fatigue.  Look 
at  me:  the  campaign  I  have  just  terminated,  the  movement,  the  ex- 
citement, have  made  me  stout.  I  believe  that  if  all  the  kings  of  Europe 
were  to  coalesce  against  me.  I  should  have  a  ridiculous  paunch." 

Joseph,  bent  on  being  a  great  king,  boasted  now  and  then 
to  Napoleon  of  his  position  in  Naples.  His  brother  never 
failed  to  silence  him  with  the  truth,  if  it  was  blunt  and  hard 
to  digest. 

**  When  you  talk  about  the  fifty  thousand  enemies  of  the  queen,  you 
make  me  laugh.  .  .  .  You  exaggerate  the  degree  of  hatred  which 
the  queen  has  left  behind  at  Naples:  you  do  not  know  mankind.  There 
are  not  twenty  persons  who  hate  her  as  you  suppose,  and  there  are  not 
twenty  persons  who  would  not  surrender  to  one  of  her  smiles.  The 
strongest  feeling  of  hatred  on  the  part  of  a  nation  is  that  inspired  by  an- 
other nation.     Your  fifty  thousand  men  are  the  enemies  of  the  French." 

With  Jerome,  Napoleon  had  been  particularly  incensed 
because  of  his  marriage  with  Miss  Patterson.  In  1804 
he  wrote  of  that  affair : 

"...  Jerome  is  wrong  to  think  that  he  will  be  able  to  count  upon 
any  weakness  on  my  part,  for,  not  having  the  rights  of  a  father,  I  cannot 
entertain  for  him  the  feeling  of  a  father:  a  father  allows  himself  to  be 
blinded,  and  it  pleases  him  to  be  blinded  because  he  identifies  his  son 
with  himself.  .  .  .  But  what  am  I  to  Jerome?  Sole  instrument  of 
my  destiny.  I  owe  nothing  to  my  brothers.  They  have  made  an  abun- 
dant harvest  out  of  what  I  have  accomplished  in  the  way  of  glory;  but 
for  all  that,  they  must  not  abandon  the  field  and  deprive  me  of  the  aid 
I  have  a  right  to  expect  from  them.  They  will  cease  to  be  anything  for 
me.  directly  they  take  a  road  opposed  to  mine.  If  I  exact  .so  much  from 
my  brothers  who  have  already  rendered  many  services,  if  I  have  aban- 


doned  the  one  who  in  mature  age  [Lucien],  refused  to  follow  my  advice, 
what  must  not  Jerome,  who  is  still  young,  and  who  is  known  only  for 
his  neglect  of  duty,  expect?  If  he  does  nothing  for  me,  I  shall  see  in 
this  the  decree  of  destiny,  which  has  decided  that  I  shall  do  nothing 
for  him.     .     .     ." 

Jerome  yielded  later  to  his  brother's  wishes,  and  in  1807 
was  rewarded  with  the  new  kingdom  of  Westphalia.  Napo- 
leon kept  close  watch  of  him,  however,  and  his  letters  are  full 
of  admirable  counsels.  The  following  is  particularly  valu- 
able, showing,  as  it  does,  that  Napoleon  believed  a  govern- 
ment would  be  popular  and  enduring  only  in  proportion  to 
the  liberty  and  prosperity  it  gave  the  citizens. 

"  What  the  German  peoples  desire  with  impatience  [he  told  Jerome], 
is  that  persons  who  are  not  of  noble  birth,  and  who  have  talents,  shall 
have  an  equal  right  to  your  consideration  and  to  public  employment 
(with  those  who  are  of  noble  birth)  ;  that  every  sort  of  servitude  and  of 
intermediate  obligations  between  the  sovereign  and  the  lowest  class  of 
the  people  should  be  entirely  abolished.  The  benefits  of  the  Code  Na- 
poleon, the  publicity  of  legal  procedure,  the  establishment  of  the  jury 
system,  will  be  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  your  monarchy.  .  .  . 
I  count  more  on  the  effect  of  these  benefits  for  the  extension  and 
strengthening  of  your  kingdom,  than  upon  the  result  of  the  greatest 
victories.  Your  people  ought  to  enjoy  a  liberty,  an  equality,  a  well- 
being,  unknown  to  the  German  peoples.  .  .  .  What  people  would 
wish  to  return  to  the  arbitrary  government  of  Prussia,  when  it  has 
tasted  the  benefits  of  a  wise  and  liberal  administration?  The  peoples  of 
Germany.  France,  Italy,  Spain,  desire  equality,  and  demand  that  liberal 
ideas  should  prevail.     ...     Be  a  constitutional  king." 

Louis  in  Holland  was  never  a  king  to  Napoleon's  mind. 
He  especially  disliked  his  quarrels  wMth  his  wife.  In  1807 
Napoleon  wrote  Louis,  apropos  of  his  domestic  relations,  a 
letter  which  is  a  good  example  of  scores  of  others  he  sent 
to  one  and  another  of  his  kings  and  princes  about  their  pri- 
vate affairs. 

"  You  govern  that  country  too  much  like  a  Capuchin.  The  goodness 
of  a  king  should  be  full  of  majesty.  ...  A  king  orders,  and  asks 
nothing  from  any  one.  .  .  .  When  people  say  of  a  king  that  he  is 
good,  his  reign  is  a  failure.    .    .    .     Your  quarrels  with  the  queen  are 


known  to  the  public.  You  should  exhibit  at  home  that  paternal  and  ef- 
feminate character  you  show  in  your  manner  of  governing.  .  .  .  You 
treat  a  young  wife  as  you  would  command  a  regiment.  Distrust  the 
people  by  whom  you  are  surrounded ;  they  are  nobles.  .  .  .  You  have 
the  best  and  most  virtuous  of  wives,  and  you  render  her  miserable.  Al- 
low her  to  dance  as  much  as  she  likes;  it  is  in  keeping  with  her  age. 
I  have  a  wife  who  is  forty  years  of  age;  from  the  field  of  battle  I 
write  to  her  to  go  to  balls,  and  you  wish  a  young  woman  of  twenty 
to  live  in  a  cloister,  or,  like  a  nurse,  to  be  always  wa.shing  her 
children.  .  .  .  Render  the  mother  of  your  children  happy.  You 
have  only  one  way  of  doing  so.  by  showing  her  esteem  and  confidence. 
Unfortunately  you  have  a  wife  who  is  too  virtuous:  if  you  had  a 
coquette,  she  would  lead  you  by  the  nose.  But  you  have  a  proud  wife, 
who  is  offended  and  grieved  at  the  mere  idea  that  you  can  have  a  bad 
opinion  of  her.  You  should  have  had  a  wife  like  some  of  those  whom 
I  know  in  Paris.     She  would  have  played  you  false,  and  you  would  have 

been  at  her  feet.    .    .    . 

"  Napoleon." 

With  his  sisters  he  was  quite  as  positive.  While  Josephine 
adapted  herself  with  grace  and  tact  to  her  great  position, 
the  Bonaparte  sisters,  especially  Pauline,  were  constantly 
irritating  somebody  by  their  vanity  and  jealousy.  The 
following  letter  to  Pauline  shows  how  little  Napoleon  spared 
them  when  their  performances  came  to  his  ears : 

"  Madame  and  Dear  Sister:  I  have  learned  with  pain  that  you  have 
not  the  good  sense  to  conform  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  city 
of  Rome;  that  you  show  contempt  for  the  inhabitants,  and  that  your 
eyes  are  unceasingly  turned  towards  Paris.  Although  occupied  with 
vast  affairs,  I  nevertheless  desire  to  make  known  my  wishes,  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  conform  to  them. 

"  I  love  your  husband  and  his  family,  be  amiable,  accustom  yourself 

to  the  usages  of  Rome,  and  put  this  in  your  head:    that  if  you  follow 

bad  advice  you  will  no  longer  be  able  to  count  upon  me.    You  may  be 

sure  that  you  will  find  no  support  in  Paris,  and  that  I  shall  never  receiye 

you  there  without  your  husband.     If  you  quarrel  with  him.  it  will  be 

your  fault,  and  France  will  be  closed  to  you.     You  will  sacrifice  your 

happiness  and  my  esteem. 

"  Bonaparte." 

This  supervision  of  policy,  relations,  and  conduct  extended 
to  his  generals.    The  case  of  General  Berthier  is  one  to  the 

Engiaved    by    Moighen    in    iSn,    «fWr    C( 


point.  Chief  of  Napoleon's  staff  in  Italy,  he  had  fallen  in 
love  at  Milan  with  a  Madame  Visconti,  and  had  never  been 
able  to  conquer  his  passion.  In  Egypt  Napoleon  called  him 
"  chief  of  the  lovers*  faction,"  that  part  of  the  army  which, 
because  of  their  desire  to  see  wives  or  sweethearts,  were  con- 
stantly revolting  against  the  campaign,  and  threatening  to 

In  1804  Berthier  had  been  made  marshal,  and  in  1806 
Napoleon  wished  to  give  him  the  princedom  of  Neufchatel ; 
but  it  was  only  on  condition  that  he  give  up  Madame  de 
Visconti,  and  marry. 

"  I  exact  only  one  condition,  which  is  that  you  get  married.  Your 
passion  has  lasted  long  enough.  It  has  become  ridiculous;  and  I  have 
the  right  to  hope  that  the  man  whom  I  have  called  my  companion  in 
arms,  who  will  be  placed  alongside  of  me  by  posterity,  will  no  longer 
abandon  himself  to  a  weakness  without  example.  .  .  .  You  know 
that  no  one  likes  you  better  than  I  do,  but  you  know  also  that  the  first 
condition  of  my  friendship  is  that  it  must  be  made  subordinate  to  my 

Berthier  fled  to  Josephine  for  help,  weeping  like  a  child; 
but  she  could  do  nothing,  and  he  married  the  woman  chosen 
for  him.  Three  months  after  the  ceremony,  the  husband 
of  Madame  de  Visconti  died  and  Berthier,  broken-hearted, 
wrote  to  the  Prince  Borghese : 

**  You  know  how  often  the  emperor  pressed  me  to  obtain  a  divorce  for 
Madame  de  Visconti.  But  a  divorce  was  always  repugnant  to  the  feel- 
ings in  which  I  was  educated,  and  therefore  I  waited.  To-day  Madame 
de  Visconti  is  free,  and  I  might  have  been  the  happiest  of  men.  But 
the  emperor  forced  me  into  a  marriage  which  hinders  me  from  uniting 
myself  to  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved.  Ah,  my  dear  prince,  all  that 
the  emperor  has  done  and  may  yet  do  for  me,  will  be  no  compensation 
for  the  eternal  misfortunes  to  which  he  has  condemned  me." 

Never  was  Napoleon  more  powerful  than  at  the  end  of 
the  period  we  have  been  tracing  so  rapidly,  never  had  he  so 
looked  the  emperor.    An  observer  who  watched  him  through 


the  Te  Deum  sung  at  Notre  Dame  in  his  honor,  on  his  re- 
turn from  Tilsit,  says :  **  His  features,  always  calm  and 
serious,  recalled  the  cameos  which  represent  the  Roman 
emperors.  He  was  small ;  still  his  whole  person,  in  this 
imposing  ceremony,  was  in  harmony  with  the  part  he  was 
playing.  A  sword  glittering  with  precious  stones  was  at 
his  side,  and  the  glittering  diamond  called  the  **  Regent  *' 
formed  its  pommel.  Its  brilliancy  did  not  let  us  forget  that 
this  sword  was  the  sharpest  and  the  most  victorious  that 
the  world  had  seen  since  those  of  Alexander  and  C?esar.'' 

Certainly  he  never  worked  more  prodigiously.  The 
campaigns  of  1805- 1807  were,  in  spite  of  their  rapid  move- 
ment,— indeed,  because  of  it. — terribly  fatiguing  for  him; 
that  they  were  possible  at  all  was  due  mainly  to  the  fact  that 
they  had  been  made  on  paper  so  many  times  in  his  study. 
When  he  was  consul  the  only  room  opening  from  his  study 
w^as  filled  with  enormous  maps  of  all  the  countries  of  the 
world.  This  room  was  presided  over  by  a  competent 
cartographer.  Frequently  these  maps  were  brought  to  the 
study  and  spread  upon  the  floor.  Napoleon  would  get 
dow^n  upon  them  on  all  fours,  and  creep  about,  compass  and 
red  pencil  in  hand,  comparing  and  measuring  distances,  and 
studying  the  configuration  of  the  land.  If  he  was  in  doubt 
about  anything,  he  referred  it  to  his  librarian,  who  was  ex- 
pected to  give  him  the  fullest  details. 

Attached  to  his  cabinet  were  skilful  translators,  whose 
business  was  not  only  to  translate  diplomatic  correspond- 
ence, but  to  gather  from  foreign  sources  full  information 
about  the  armies  of  his  enemies.  Meneval  declares  that  the 
emperor  knew  the  condition  of  foreign  armies  as  well  as  he 
did  that  of  his  ow^n. 

The  amount  of  information  he  had  about  other  lands  was 
largely  due  to  his  ability  to  ask  questions.  When  he  sent 
to  an  agent  for  a  report,  he  rattled  at  him  a  volley  of  ques- 


tions,  always  to  the  point ;  and  the  agent  knew  that  it  would 
never  do  to  let  one  go  unanswered. 

While  carrying  on  the  Austrian  and  Prussian  campaigns 
of  1 805- 1 807,  Napoleon  showed,  as  never  before,  his  extra- 
ordinary capacity  for  attending  to  everything.  The  number 
of  despatches  he  sent  out  was  incredible.  In  the  first  three 
months  of  1807,  while  he  was  in  Poland,  he  wrote  over 
seventeen  hundred  letters  and  despatches. 

It  was  not  simply  war,  the  making  of  kingdoms,  the  direc- 
tions of  his  new-made  kings;  minor  affairs  of  the  greatest 
variety  occupied  him.  While  at  Boulogne,  tormented  by  the 
failure  of  the  English  invasion  and  the  war  against  Austria, 
he  ordered  that  horse  races  should  be  established  "  in  those 
parts  of  the  empire  the  most  remarkable  for  the  horses  they 
breed ;  prizes  shall  be  awarded  to  the  fleetest  horses.''  The 
very  day  after  the  battle  of  Friedland,  he  was  sending  orders 
to  Paris  about  the  form  and  site  of  a  statue  to  the  memory 
of  the  Bishop  of  Vannes.  He  criticised  from  Poland  the 
quarrels  of  Parisian  actresses,  ordered  canals,  planned  there 
for  the  Bourse  and  the  Odeon  Theatre.  The  newspapers  he 
watched  as  he  did  when  in  Paris,  reprimanded  this  editor, 
suspended  that,  forbade  the  publication  of  news  of  disasters 
to  the  French  navy,  censured  every  item  honorable  to  his 
enemies.  To  read  the  bulletines  issued  from  Jena  to  Fried- 
land,  one  would  believe  that  the  writer  had  no  business  other 
than  that  of  regulating  the  interior  affairs  of  France.  This 
care  of  details  went,  as  Pasquier  says,  to  the  "  point  of 
minuteness,  or,  to  speak  plainly,  to  that  of  charlatanism ;  " 
but  it  certainly  did  produce  a  deep  impression  upon  France. 
That  he  could  establish  himself  five  hundred  leagues  from 
Paris,  in  the  heart  of  winter,  in  a  country  encircled  by  his 
enemies,  and  yet  be  in  daily  communication  with  his  capital, 
could  direct  even  its  least  important  affairs  as  if  he  were 
present,  could  know  what  every  person  of  influence,  from 


the  Secretary  of  State  to  the  humblest  newspaper  man,  was 
doing,  caused  a  superstitious  feeling  to  rise  in  France,  and 
in  all  Europe,  that  the  emperor  of  the  French  people  was 
not  only  omnipotent,  but  omnipresent. 




WHEN  Napoleon,  in  1805,  was  obliged  to  abandon 
the  descent  on  England  and  turn  the  magnifi- 
cent army  gathered  at  Boulogne  against  Austria, 
he  by  no  means  gave  up  the  idea  of  one  day  humbling  his 
enemy.  Persistently  throughout  the  campaigns  of  1805- 
1807  his  despatches  and  addresses  remind  Frenchmen  that 
vengeance  is  only  deferred. 

In  every  way  he  strives  to  awaken  indignation  and  hatred 
against  England.  The  alliance  which  has  compelled  him  to 
turn  his  armies  against  his  neighbors  on  the  Continent,  he 
characterizes  as  an  **  unjust  league  fomented  by  the  hatred 
and  gold  of  England.''  He  tells  the  soldiers  of  the  Grand 
Army  that  it  is  English  gold  which  has  transported  the 
Russian  army  from  the  extremities  of  the  universe  to  fight 
them.  He  charges  the  horrors  of  Austerlitz  upon  the  Eng- 
lish. "  May  all  the  blood  shed,  may  all  these  misfortunes, 
fall  upon  the  perfidious  islanders  who  have  caused  them! 
May  the  cowardly  oligarchies  of  London  support  the  con- 
sequences of  so  many  woes!  '*  From  now  on,  all  the  treaties 
he  makes  are  drawn  up  with  a  view  to  humbling  **  the  eternal 
enemies  of  the  Continent." 

Negotiation  for  peace  went  on,  it  is  true,  in  1806,  between 
the  two  countries.  Napoleon  offered  to  return  Hanover 
and  Malta.  He  offered  several  things  which  belonged  to 
other  people,  but  England  refused  all  of  his  combinations; 



and  when,  a  few  days  after  Jena,  he  addressed  his  army, 
it  was  to  tell  them :  **  We  shall  not  lay  down  our  arms  until 

we  have  obliged  the  English,  those  eternal  enemies  of  our 

nation,  to  renounce  their  plan  of  troubling  the  Continent 

and  their  tyranny  of  the  seas/' 

A  month  later — November  21,  1806 — he  proclaimed  the 
famous  Decree  of  Berlin,  his  future  policy  towards  Great 
Britain.  As  she  had  shut  her  enemies  from  the  sea,  he  would 
shut  her  from  the  land.  The  "  continental  blockade,''  as  this 
struggle  of  land  against  sea  was  called,  was  only  using  Eng- 
land's own  weapon  of  war ;  but  it  was  using  it  with  a  sweep- 
ing audacity,  thoroughly  Napoleonic  in  conception  and  in 
the  proposed  execution.  Henceforth,  all  communication  was 
forbidden  between  the  British  Isles  and  France  and  her  allies. 
Every  Englishman  found  under  French  authority — and  that 
was  about  all  the  Continent  as  the  emperor  estimated  it 
— was  a  prisoner  of  war.  Every  dollar's  worth  of  English 
property  found  within  Napoleon's  boundaries,  whether  it 
belonged  to  rich  trader  or  inoffensive  tourist,  was  prize  of 
war.  If  one  remembers  the  extent  of  the  seaboard  which 
Napoleon  at  that  moment  commanded,  the  full  peril  of  this 
menace  to  English  commerce  is  clear.  From  St.  Petersburg 
to  Trieste  there  was  not  a  port,  save  those  of  Denmark  and 
Portugal,  which  would  not  close  at  his  bidding.  At  Tilsit 
he  and  Alexander  had  entered  into  an  agreement  to  complete 
this  seaboard,  to  close  the  Baltic,  the  Channel,  the  European 
Atlantic,  and  the  Mediterranean  to  the  English.  This  was 
nothing  else  than  asking  Continental  Europe  to  destroy  her 
commerce  for  their  sakes. 

There  were  several  serious  uncertainties  in  the  scheme. 
What  retaliation  would  England  make?  Could  Napoleon 
and  Alexander  agree  long  enough  to  succeed  in  dividing  the 
valuable  portions  of  the  continents  of  Europe,  Asia,  and 
Africa?    Would  the  nations  cheerfully  give  up  the  English 

Eiitrived  bjr  RuolU,  after  Cros. 


cottons  and  tweeds  they  had  been  buying,  the  boots  they  had 
been  wearing,  the  cutlery  and  dishes  they  had  been  using? 
Would  they  cheerfully  see  their  own  products  lie  uncalled 
for  in  their  warehouses,  for  the  sake  of  aiding  a  foreign 
monarch — although  the  most  brilliant  and  powerful  on 
earth — to  carry  out  a  vast  plan  for  crushing  an  enemy  who 
was  not  their  enemy?    It  remained  to  be  seen. 

In  the  meantime  there  was  the  small  part  of  the  coast  line 
remaining  independent  to  be  joined  to  the  portion  already 
blockaded  to  the  English.  There  was  no  delay  in  Napoleon's 
action.  Denmark  was  ordered  to  choose  between  war  with 
England  and  war  with  France.  Portugal  was  notified  that 
if  her  ports  were  not  closed  in  forty  days  the  French  and 
Spanish  armies  would  invade  her.  England  gave  a  drastic 
reply  to  Napoleon's  measures.  In  August  she  appeared  be- 
fore Copenhagen,  seized  the  Danish  fleet,  and  for  three  days 
bombarded  the  town.  This  unjustifiable  attack  on  a  nation 
with  which  she  was  at  peace  horrified  Europe,  and  it  sup- 
ported the  emperor  in  pushing  to  the  uttermost  the  Berlin 
Decree.  He  made  no  secret  of  his  determination.  In  a 
diplomatic  audience  at  Fontainebleau,  October  14,  1807, 
he  declared : 

*'  Great  Britain  shall  be  destroyed.  I  have  the  means  of  doing  it, 
and  they  shall  be  employed.  I  have  three  hundred  thousand  men 
devoted  to  this  object,  and  an  ally  who  has  three  hundred  thousand  to 
support  them.  I  will  permit  no  nation  to  receive  a  minister  from 
Great  Britain  until  she  shall  have  renounced  her  maritime  usages  and 
tyranny;  and  I  desire  you.  gentlemen,  to  convey  this  determination 
to  your  respective  sovereigns." 

Such  an  alarming  extent  did  the  blockade  threaten  to  take, 
that  even  our  minister  to  France,  Mr.  Armstrong,  began  to 
be  nervous.  His  diplomatic  acquaintances  told  him  cyn- 
ically, **  You  are  much  favored,  but  it  won't  last ;  "  and,  in 
fact,  it  was  not  long  before  it  was  evident  that  the  United 



^:  -    rer-^in  neutral.     Napoleon's 
'•"^  1  i^r  in  J  decisive: 

•■-  ^'^    T^earched,   ^Iie  adopts  the 

' "    -  ■  t  "■■■is'      Since  she  recognizes 

-:-:■.-:  1    =  --=-:>  to  having  her  vessels 

-:.  _:  -    --  _   -     T-jmed   aside  from  their 

•  --:      T   ■      -f.tT   the   blockade   laid   by 

~    "-    :  T'lkiied    by    England    than 

-.         ■:.-.   -   :  equally   suffer  their 

-  "         -  -""1  r.  y  France  recognizes  that 

.    ..*  ■--     r  -:' national  sovereignty; 

~ -■   *    "      ■  'I-    at.I  :o  declare  them- 

.    ■    -    -     -.--.-r     ctA     di-igrace     their 

~: ::':     •     :"   >e  her  ports  caused 

•  :•  -   r     :. '.   "'eyed  Napoleon's 

•  :    --      t:i'--.rl  nil   Englishmen 

: "  r:  r J  refused  to  con- 

•  -     --     fr>  -r.  P  rtugal.     This 

:    ;■  -^i   :  '  refusincr  to  l^e- 
, .     . , . . ..  ^    ..  ^      ..  ^j  .ntinue  your 

':ei"     rdered  into  the 

•::    «:'   :  J.   :So7 ).     *"  I  have 

-t    '  ..-   .:■•  ".trstrindinir  with  Eng- 

'■'.-'-.  :-  •  :  s  ::::ie  t.*  arrive  from 

- ' ' t'* 


-;-..•  ..♦  V  ;,)iiif''  f.  ,r  the  re--.:'.:-  :  -he  invasion,  he  and 
'''■:•  \\\:rj.  '•!  'j'.iiii  'li-.i'lr-'l  n].»  P -rrugra:  between  them.  If 
.•..-;-■  .':.■•;'. II  V  .1    jM«rji;iiiirc,  !*■  )rtuj[^''al  diil  nothing  to  gainsay 

.-,, f.,r  wln'ii    liiii'.t  .'irrivcd  at  Lislxai  in  December,  he 

...1,1  tlu-  ("niiir\    Willi. Mil  a  trnvernment,  the  royal  family 

.,  .    ,,1,.-  jlfd  III  lii'dii  i'»  r»i;i/il.     There  was  only  one  thing 

t,»  be  d«'nr.   |iim«'|  mn,!  mi  t'slal)lish  himself  as  to  h«>ld 

-, »nntrv  a!:.M""'   i'""   lnjdisli.  who  naturally  would  re- 

■    *       J      iiijiiM    <1''"»'  t''*'»     '''^       iM''»ni  St.   Petersburg  to 


But  he  was  not  satisfied.  Spain  was  between  him  and 
Portugal.  If  he  was  going  to  rule  Western  Europe  he 
ought  to  possess  her.  There  is  no  space  here  to  trace  the 
intrigues  with  the  weak  and  vicious  factions  of  the  Spanish 
court,  which  ended  in  Napoleon's  persuading  Charles  IV. 
to  cede  his  rights  to  the  Spanish  throne  and  to  become  his 
pensioner,  and  Ferdinand,  the  heir  apparent,  to  abdicate; 
and  which  placed  Joseph  Bonaparte,  King  of  Naples,  on  the 
Spanish  throne,  and  put  Murat,  Charlotte  Bonaparte's  hus- 
band, in  Joseph's  place. 

From  beginning  to  end  the  transfer  of  the  Spanish  crown 
from  Bourbon  to  Bonaparte  was  dishonorable  and  unjustifi- 
able. It  is  true  that  the  government  of  Spain  w-as  corrupt. 
No  greater  mismanagement  could  be  conceived,  no  more 
scandalous  court.  Unquestionably  the  country  would  have 
been  far  better  off  under  Napoleonic  institutions.  But  to 
despoil  Spain  was  to  be  false  to  an  ally  which  had  served 
him  for  years  with  fidelity,  and  at  an  awful  cost  to  herself. 
It  is  true  that  her  service  had  been  through  fear,  not  love. 
It  is  true  that  at  one  critical  moment  (when  Napoleon  was 
in  Poland,  in  1807)  she  had  tried  to  escape;  but,  neverthe- 
less, it  remained  a  fact  that  for  France  Spain  had  lost  colo- 
nies, sacrificed  men  and  money,  and  had  seen  her  fleet  go 
down  at  Trafalgar.  In  taking  her  throne.  Napoleon  had 
none  of  the  excuses  which  had  justified  him  in  interfering  in 
Italy,  in  Germany,  in  Holland,  in  Switzerland.  This  was 
not  a  conquest  of  war,  not  confiscation  on  account  of  the 
perfidy  of  an  ally,  not  an  attempt  to  answer  the  prayers  of  a 
people  for  a  more  liberal  government. 

If  Spain  had  submitted  to  the  change,  sh^  would  have 
been  purchasing  good  government  at  the  price  of  national 
honor.  But  Spain  did  not  submit.  She,  as  well  as  all  disin- 
terested lookers-on  in  Europe,  was  revolted  by  the  baseness 
of  the  deed.     No  one  has  ever  explained  better  the  feeling 


which  the  intrigues  over  the  Spanish  throne  caused  than 
Napoleon  himself : 

"  I  confess  I  embarked  badly  in  the  affair  [he  told  Las  Cases  at  St. 
Helena].  The  immorality  of  it  was  too  patent,  the  injustice  far  too 
cynical,  and  the  whole  thing  too  villainous;  hence  I  failed.  The 
attempt  is  seen  now  only  in  its  hideous  nudity,  stripped  of  all  that  is 
grand,  of  all  the  numerous  benefits  which  I  intended.  Posterity 
would  have  extolled  it,  however,  if  I  had  succeeded,  and  rightly,  per- 
haps, because  of  its  great  and  happy  results." 

It  was  the  Spanish  people  themselves,  not  the  ruling 
house,  who  resented  the  transfer  from  Bourbon  to  Bona- 

No  sooner  was  it  noised  through  Spain  that  the  Bourbons 
had  really  abdicated,  and  Joseph  Bonaparte  had  been  named 
king,  than  an  insurrection  was  organized  simultaneously  all 
over  the  country.  Some  eighty-four  thousand  French  troops 
were  scattered  througli  tlie  Peninsula,  but  they  were  power- 
less before  the  kind  of  warfare  which  now  began.  Every 
defile  became  a  battle-ground,  every  rock  hid  a  peasant, 
armed  and  waiting  for  French  stragglers,  messengers,  supply 
parties.  The  remnant  (^f  the  French  fleets  escaped  from 
Trafalgar,  and  now  at  Cadiz,  was  forced  to  surrender. 
Twenty-five  thousand  French  sokHers  laid  down  their  arms 
at  Baylen,  but  the  Spaniards  refused  to  keep  their  capitula- 
tion treaties.  Tlie  prisoners  were  tortured  by  the  peasants  in 
the  most  barbarous  fashion,  crucified,  burned,  sawed 
asunder.  Those  who  escaped  the  popular  vengeance  were 
sent  to  the  Island  of  Cabrera,  where  they  lived  in  the  most 
abject  fashion.  It  was  only  in  18 14  that  the  remnant  of  this 
army  was  released.  King  Joseph  was  obliged  to  flee  to  Vit- 
toria  a  week  after  he  reached  his  capital. 

The  misfortunes  of  Spain  were  followed  by  greater  ones 
in  Portugal.  Junot  was  defeated  by  an  English  army  at 
Vimeiro  in  August,  1808,  and  capitulated  on  condition  that 
his  army  be  taken  back  to  France  without  being  disarmed. 



NAPOLEON  amazed  at  this  unexpected  popular  up- 
rising in  Spain,  and  angry  that  the  spell  of  invinci- 
bility under  which  his  armies  had  fought,  was 
broken,  resolved  to  undertake  the  Peninsular  war  himself. 
But  before  a  campaign  in  Spain  could  be  entered  upon,  it 
was  necessary  to  know  that  all  the  inner  and  outer  w^heels 
of  the  great  machine  he  had  devised  for  dividing  the  world 
and  crushing  England  were  revolving  perfectly. 

Since  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  he  had  done  much  at  home  for 
this  machine.  The  finances  were  in  splendid  condition. 
Public  works  of  great  importance  were  going  on  all  over 
the  kingdom ;  the  court  w^as  luxurious  and  brilliant,  and  the 
money  it  scattered,  encouraged  the  commercial  and  manu- 
facturing classes.  Never  had  fetes  been  more  brilliant  than 
those  which  welcomed  Napoleon  back  to  Paris  in  1807; 
never  had  the  season  at  Fontainebleau  been  gayer  or  more 
magnificent  than  it  was  that  year. 

All  of  those  who  had  been  instrumental  in  bringing  pros- 
perity and  order  to  France  wxre  rewarded  in  1807  with 
splendid  gifts  from  the  indemnities  levied  on  the  enemies. 
The  marshals  of  the  Grand  Army  received  from  eighty 
thousand  to  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  apiece;  twenty- 
five  generals  were  given  forty  thousand  dollars  each;  the 
civil  functionaries  were  not  forgotten;  thus  Monsieur  de 
Seg^r  received  forty  thousand  dollars  as  a  sign  of  the  em- 



peror's  gratification  at  the  way  he  had  administered  etiquette 
in  the  young  court. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  Napoleon  founded  a  new  nobility 
as  a  further  means  of  rewarding  those  who  had  rendered 
brilliant  services  to  France.  This  institution  was  designed, 
too,  as  a  means  of  reconciling  old  and  new  France.  It 
created  the  title,  of  prince,  duke,  count,  baron,  and  knight ; 
and  those  receiving  these  titles  were  at  the  same  time  given 
domains  in  the  conquered  provinces,  sufficient  to  permit 
them  to  establish  themselves  in  good  style. 

The  drawing  up  of  the  rules  which  were  to  govern  this 
new  order  occupied  the  gravest  men  of  the  country,  Cam- 
baceres.  Saint-Martin,  Hauterive,  Portalis,  Pasquier. 
Among  other  duties  they  had  to  prepare  the  armorial  bear- 
ings. Napoleon  refused  to  allow  the  crown  to  go  on  the 
new  escutcheons.  He  wished  no  one  but  himself  to  have 
a  right  to  use  that  symbol.  A  substitute  was  found  in  the 
panache,  the  number  of  plumes  showing  the  rank. 

Napoleon  used  the  new  favors  at  his  command  freely, 
creating  in  all,  after  1807,  forty-eight  thousand  knights,  one 
thousand  and  ninety  barons,  three  hundred  and  eighty-eight 
counts,  thirty-one  dukes,  and  three  princes.  All  members 
of  the  old  nobility  who  were  sui)porting  his  government 
were  given  titles,  but  not  those  which  they  formerly  held. 
Naturally  this  often  led  to  great  dissatisfaction,  the  bearers 
of  ancient  names  preferring  a  lower  rank  which  had  been 
their  family's  for  centuries  to  one  higher,  but  unhallowed 
by  time  and  tradition.  Thus  Madame  de  Montmorency  re- 
belled obstinately  against  being  made  a  countess, — she  had 
been  a  baroness  under  the  old  regime, —  and,  as  the  Mont- 
morencys  claimed  the  honor  of  being  called  the  first  Chris- 
tian barons,  she  felt  justly  that  the  old  title  was  a  far  prouder 
one  than  any  Napoleon  could  give  her.  But  a  countess  she 
had  to  remain. 


In  his  efforts  to  win  for  himself  the  services  of  all  those 
whom  blood  and  fortune  had  made  his  natural  supporters, 
the  emperor  tried  again  to  reconcile  Lucien.  In  November, 
1807,  Napoleon  visited  Italy,  and  at  Mantua  a  secret  inter- 
view took  place  between  the  brothers.  Lucien,  in  his  '*  Me- 
moirs," gives  a  dramatic  description  of  the  way  in  which 
Napoleon  spread  the  kingdoms  of  half  a  world  before  him 
and  offered  him  his  choice. 

"  He  struck  a  great  'blow  with  his  hand  in  the  middle  of  the  im- 
mense map  of  Europe  which  was  extended  on  the  table,  by  the  side 
of  which  we  were  standing.  *  Yes,  choose.*  he  said;  "you  see  I  am  not 
talking  in  the  air.  All  this  is  mine,  or  will  soon  belong  to  me;  I  can 
dispose  of  it  already.  Do  you  want  Naples?  I  will  take  it  from 
Joseph,  who.  by  the  by.  does  not  care  for  it;  he  prefers  Mortefontaine. 
Italy — the  most  beautiful  jewel  in  my  imperial  crown?  Eugene  is  but 
viceroy,  and,  far  from  despising  it  he  hopes  only  that  I  shall  give 
it  to  him.  or.  at  least,  leave  it  to  him  if  he  survives  mc ;  he  is  likely 
to  be  disappointed  in  waiting,  for  I  shall  live  ninety  years.  I  must, 
for  the  perfect  consolidation  of  my  empire.  Besides,  Eugene  will  not 
suit  me  in  Italy  after  his  mother  is  divorced.  Spain?  Do  you  not 
see  it  falling  into  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  thanks  to  the  blunders  of  my 
dear  Brurbons,  and  to  the  follies  of  your  friend,  the  Prince  of  Peace? 
Would  you  not  be  well  pleased  to  reign  there,  where  you  have  been 
only  ambassador?  Once  for  all,  what  do  you  want?  Speak!  Whatever 
you  wish,  or  can  wish,  is  yours   if  your  divorce  precedes  mine.*  ** 

Until  midnight  the  two  brothers  wrestled  with  the  ques- 
tion between  them.  Neither  would  abandon  his  position; 
and  when  Lucien  finally  went  away,  his  face  was  wet  with 
tears.  To  Meneval,  who  conducted  him  to  his  inn  in  the 
town,  he  said,  in  bidding  him  carry  his  farewell  to  the  em- 
peror, "  It  may  be  forever.''  It  was  not.  Seven  years  later 
the  brothers  met  again,  but  the  map  of  Europe  was  forever 
rolled  up  for  Napoleon. 

The  essential  point  in  carrying  out  the  Tilsit  plan  was, 
the  fidelity  of  Alexander;  and  Napoleon  resolved,  before 
going  into  the  Spanish  war,  to  meet  tlie  Emperor  of  Russia. 


This  was  the  more  needful,  because  Austria  had  begun  to 
show  signs  of  hostility. 

The  meeting  took  place  in  September,  1807,  at  Erfurt,  in 
Saxony,  and  lasted  a  month.  Napoleon  acted  as  host,  and 
prepared  a  splendid  entertainment  for  his  guests.  The  com- 
pany he  had  gathered  was  most  brilliant.  Beside  the  Rus- 
sian and  French  emperors,  with  ambassadors  and  suites, 
were  the  Kings  of  Saxony,  Bavaria,  and  Wiirtemberg,  the 
Prince  Primate,  the  Grand  Duke  and  Grand  Duchess  of 
Baden,  the  Dukes  of  Saxony,  and  the  Princes  of  the  Confed- 
eration of  the  Rhine. 

The  palaces  w^here  the  emperors  were  entertained,  were 
furnished  with  articles  from  the  Garde-Meuble  of  France. 
The  leading  actors  of  the  Theatre  Franqais  gave  the  best 
French  tragedies  to  a  house  where  there  w^as,  as  Napoleon 
had  promised  Talma,  a  **  parterre  full  of  kings."  There 
was  a  hare  hunt  on  the  battle-field  of  Jena,  to  which  even 
Prince  William  of  Prussia  was  invited,  and  where  the  party 
breakfasted  on  the  spot  where  Napoleon  had  bivouacked  in 
1806,  the  night  before  the  battle.  There  were  balls  where 
Alexander  danced,  **  but  not  I,"  wrote  the  emperor  to  Jo- 
sephine; "  forty  years  are  forty  years."  Goethe  and  Wie- 
land  were  both  presented  to  Napoleon  at  Erfurt,  and  the 
emperor  had  long  conversations  with  them. 

In  spite  of  these  gayeties  Napoleon  and  Alexander  found 
time  to  renew  their  Tilsit  agreement.  They  were  to  make 
war  and  peace  together.  Alexander  was  to  uphold  Napo- 
leon in  giving  Joseph  the  throne  of  Spain,  and  to  keep 
the  continent  tranquil  during  the  Peninsular  war.  Napo- 
leon was  to  support  Alexander  in  getting  possession  of  Fin- 
land, Moldavia,  and  Wallachia.  The  two  emperors  were  to 
write  and  sign  a  letter  inviting  England  to  join  them  in  peace 

This  was  done  promptly ;  but  when  England  insisted  that 

by   rii^^inKcr,   aficr   Men'jclberii 


representatives  of  the  government  which  was  acting  in 
Spain  in  the  name  of  Ferdinand  VII.  should  be  admitted  to 
the  proposed  meeting,  the  peace  negotiations  abruptly  ended. 
Under  the  circumstances  Napoleon  could  not  recognize  that 

The  emperor  w^as  ready  to  conduct  the  Spanish  war.  His 
first  move  was  to  send  into  the  country  a  large  body  of  vet- 
erans from  Germany.  Before  this  time  the  army  had  been 
made  up  of  young  recruits  upon  whom  the  Spanish  looked 
with  contempt.  The  men,  inexperienced  and  demoralized 
by  the  kind  of  guerrilla  warfare  which  was  waged  against 
them,  had  become  discouraged.  The  worst  feature  of  their 
case  was  that  they  did  not  believe  in  the  war.  That  brave 
story-teller  Marbot  relates  frankly  how  he  felt : 

"  As  a  soldier  I  was  bound  to  fight  any  one  who  attacked  the  French 
army,  but  I  could  not  help  recognizing  in  my  inmost  conscience  that 
our  cause  was  a  bad  one.  and  that  the  Spaniards  were  quite  right  in 
trying  to  drive  out  strangers  who,  after  coming  among  them  in  the 
guise  of  friends,  were  wishing  to  dethrone  their  sovereign  and  take 
forcible  possession  of  the  kingdom.  This  war,  therefore,  seemed  to 
me  wicked;  but  I  was  a  soldier,  and  I  must  march  or  be  charged  with 
cowardice.  The  greater  part  of  the  army  thought  as  I  did,  and.  like  me, 
obeyed  orders  all  the  same.*' 

The  appearance  of  the  veterans  and  the  presence  of  the 
emperor  at  once  put  a  new  face  on  the  war ;  the  morale  of  the 
army  was  raised,  and  the  respect  of  the  Spaniards  inspired. 

The  emperor  speedily  made  his  way  to  Madrid,  though  he 
had  to  fight  three  battles  to  get  there,  and  began  at  once  a 
work  of  reorganization.  Decree  followed  decree.  Feudal 
rights  were  abolished,  the  inquisition  was  ended,  the  number 
of  convents  was  reduced,  the  custom-houses  between  the 
various  provinces  were  done  away  with,  a  political  and  mili- 
tary programme  was  made  out  for  King  Joseph.  Many 
bulletins  were  sent  to  the  Spanish  people.  In  all  of  them 
they  were  told  that  it  was  the  English  w^ho  were  their  ene- 


mies,  not  their  allies ;  that  they  came  to  the  Peninsular  not  to 
help,  but  to  inspire  to  false  confidence,  and  to  lead  them 
astray.    Napoleon's  plan  and  purpose  could  not  be  mistaken. 

**  Spaniards  [he  proclaimed  at  Madrid],  your  destinies  are  in  my 
hands.  Reject  the  poison  which  the  English  have  spread  among  you; 
let  your  king  be  certain  of  your  love  and  your  confidence,  and  you 
will  be  more  powerful  and  happier  than  ever.  I  have  destroyed  all 
that  was  opposed  to  your  prosperity  and  greatness;  I  have  broken 
the  fetters  which  weighed  upon  the  people;  a  liberal  constitution  gives 
you.  instead  of  an  absolute,  a  tempered  and  constitutional  monarchy.  It 
depends  upon  you  that  this  constitution  shall  become  law.  But  if 
all  my  efforts  prove  useless,  and  if  you  do  not  respond  to  my  con- 
fidence, it  will  only  remain  for  me  to  treat  you  as  conquered  provinces, 
and  to  find  my  brother  another  throne.  I  shall  then  place  the  crown  of 
Spain  on  my  own  head,  and  I  shall  know  how  to  make  the  wicked 
tremble;  for  God  has  given  me  the  power  and  the  will  necessary  to 
surmount  all  obstacles." 

But  a  flame  had  been  kindled  in  Spain  which  no  number 
of  Napoleonic  bulletins  could  quench — a  fanatical  frenzy  in- 
spired by  the  priests,  a  blind  passion  of  patriotism.  The 
Spaniards  wanted  their  own,  even  if  it  was  feudal  and 
oppressive.  A  constitution  which  they  had  been  forced  to 
accept,  seemed  to  them  odious  and  shameful,  if  liberal. 

The  obstinacy  and  horror  of  their  resistance  w-as  nowhere 
so  tragic  and  so  heroic  as  at  the  siege  of  Saragossa,  going 
on  at  the  time  Napoleon,  at  Madrid,  was  issuing  his  decrees 
and  proclamations.  Saragossa  had  been  fortified  when  the 
insurrection  against  King  Joseph  broke  out.  The  town  was 
surrounded  by  convents,  which  were  turned  into  forts.  Men, 
w'omen,  and  children  took  up  arms,  and  the  priests,  cross  in 
hand,  and  dagger  at  the  belt,  led  them.  No  word  of  sur- 
render was  tolerated  within  the  walls.  At  the  beginning 
Napoleon  regarded  the  defence  of  Saragossa  as  a  small 
affair,  and  wished  to  try  persuasion  on  the  people.  There 
was  at  Paris  a  w^ell-known  Aragon  noble  whom  he  urged  to 
go  to  Saragosa  and  calm  the  popular  excitement.    The  man 


accepted  the  mission.  When  he  arrived  in  the  town  the 
people  hurried  forth  to  meet  him,  supposing  he  had  come 
to  aid  in  the  resistance.  At  the  first  word  of  submission  he 
spoke  he  was  assailed  by  the  mob,  and  for  nearly  a  year  lay 
in  a  dungeon. 

The  peasants  of  the  vicinity  of  Saragossa  were  quartered 
in  the  town,  each  family  being  given  a  house  to  defend. 
Nothing  could  drive  them  from  their  posts.  They  took  an 
oath  to  resist  until  death,  and  regarded  the  probable  destruc- 
tion of  themselves  and  their  families  with  stoical  indiffer- 
ence. The  priests  had  so  aroused  their  religious  exultation, 
and  were  able  to  sustain  it  at  such  a  pitch,  that  they  never 
wavered  before  the  daily  horrors  they  endured. 

The  French  at  first  tried  to  drive  them  from  their  posts 
by  sallies  made  into  the  town,  but  the  inhabitants  rained 
such  a  murderous  fire  upon  them  from  towers,  roofs,  win- 
dows, even  the  cellars,  that  they  were  obliged  to  retire.  Ex- 
asperated by  this  stubborn  resistance  they  resolved  to  blow 
up  the  town,  inch  by  inch.  The  siege  was  begun  in  the  most 
terrible  and  destructive  manner,  but  the  people  were  un- 
moved by  the  danger.  **  While  a  house  was  being  mined, 
and  the  dull  sound  of  the  rammers  warned  them  that  death 
was  at  hand,  not  one  left  the  house  which  he  had  sworn  to 
defend,  and  we  could  hear  them  singing  litanies.  Then,  at 
the  moment  the  walls  flew  into  the  air  and  fell  back  with  a 
crash,  crushing  the  greater  part  of  them,  those  who  had  es- 
caped would  collect  about  the  ruins,  and  sheltering  them- 
selves behind  the  slightest  cover,  would  recommence  their 

Marshal  Lannes  commanded  before  Saragossa.  Touched 
by  the  devotion  and  the  heroism  of  the  defenders,  he  pro- 
posed an  honorable  capitulation.  The  besieged  scorned  the 
proposition,  and  the  awful  process  of  undermining  went  on 
until  the  town  was  practically  blown  to  pieces. 


For  such  resistance  there  was  no  end  but  extermination. 
For  the  first  tini6  in  his  career  Napoleon  had  met  sublime 
popular  patriotism,  a  passion  before  which  diplomacy,  flat- 
tery, love  of  gain,  force,  lose  their  power. 

It  was  for  but  a  short  time  that  the  emperor  could  give 
his  personal  attention  to  the  Spanish  war.  Certain  wheels 
in  his  great  machine  were  not  revolving  smoothly.  In  his 
own  capital,  Paris,  there  was  friction  among  certain  influen- 
tial persons.  The  peace  of  the  Continent,  necessary  to  the 
Peninsular  war,  and  which  Alexander  had  guaranteed,  was 
threatened.  Under  these  circumstances  it  was  impossible 
to  remain  in  Spain. 

Talleyrand's    treachery — the    campaign    of    1809 — 


Two  unscrupulous  and  crafty  men,  both  of  singular 
ability,  caused  the  interior  trouble  which  called  Na- 
poleon from  Spain.  These  men  were  Talleyrand 
and  Fouche.  The  latter  we  saw  during  the  Consulate  as 
Minister  of  Police.  Since,  he  had  been  once  dismissed  be- 
cause of  his  knavery,  and  restored,  largely  for  the  same 
quality.  His  cunning  was  too  valuable  to  dispense  with. 
The  former,  Talleyrand,  made  Minister  of  Foreign  Aflfairs 
in  1799,  had  handled  his  negotiations  with  the  extraordinary 
skill  for  which  he  was  famous,  until,  in  1807,  Napoleon's 
mistrust  of  his  duplicity,  and  Talleyrand's  own  dislike  for  the 
details  of  his  position,  led  to  the  portfolio  being  taken  from 
him,  and  he  being  made  Vice-Grand- Elector.  He  evidently 
expected,  in  accepting  this  change,  to  remain  as  influential  as 
ever  with  Napoleon.  The  knowledge  that  the  emperor  was 
dispensing  with  his  services  made  him  resentful,  and  his  de- 
votion to  the  imperial  cause  fluctuated  according  to  the  at- 
tention he  received. 

Ncnv,  Napoleon's  course  in  Spain  had  been  undertaken  at 
the  advice  of  Talleyrand,  largely,  and  he  had  repeated  con- 
stantly, in  the  early  negotiations,  that  France  ought  not  to 
allow  a  Bourbon  to  remain  enthroned  at  her  borders.  Yet, 
as  the  affair  went  on,  he  began  slyly  to  talk  against  the  enter- 
prise. At  Erfurt,  where  Napoleon  had  been  impolitic 
enough  to  take  him,  he  initiated  himself  into  Alexander's 



good  graces,  and  prevented  Napoleon's  policy  towards  Aus- 
tria being  carried  out.  When  Napoleon  returned  to  Spain, 
Talleyrand  and  Fouche,  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  ene- 
mies, became  friendly,  and  even  appeared  in  public,  arm  in 
arm.  If  Talleyrand  and  Fouche  had  made  up,  said  the  Par- 
isians, there  was  mischief  brewing. 

Napoleon  was  not  long  in  knowing  of  their  reconciliation. 
He  learned  more,  that  the  two  crafty  plotters  had  written 
Murat  that  in  the  event  of  **  something  happening,"  that  is, 
of  Napoleon's  death  or  overthrow,  they  should  organize  a 
movement  to  call  him  to  the  head  of  affairs :  that,  accord- 
ingly, he  must  hold  himself  ready. 

Napoleon  returned  to  Paris  immediately,  removed  Talley- 
rand from  his  position  at  court,  and,  at  a  gathering  of  high 
officials,  treated  him  to  one  of  those  violent  harangues  with 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  flay  those  whom  he  would  dis- 
grace and  dismiss. 

**  You  are  a  thief,  a  coward,  a  man  withoui  honor ;  you  do  not 
believe  in  God;  you  have  all  your  life  been  a  traitor  to  your  duties; 
you  have  deceived  and  betrayed  everybody ;  nothing  is  sacred  to  you ;  you 
would  sell  your  own  father.  I  have  loaded  you  down  with  gifts,  and 
there  is  nothing  you  would  not  undertake  against  me.  For  the  past 
ten  months  you  have  been  shameless  enough,  because  you  supposed, 
rightly  or  wrongly,  that  my  affairs  in  Spain  were  going  astray,  to  say 
to  ail  who  would  listen  to  you  that  you  always  blamed  my  under- 
takings there;  whereas  it  was  you  yourself  who  first  put  it  into  my 
head,  and  who  persistently  urged  it.  And  that  man,  that  unfortunate 
[he  meant  the  Due  d'Enghien],  by  whom  was  I  advised  of  the  place 
of  his  residence?  Who  drove  me  to  deal  cruelly  with  him?  What, 
then,  are  you  aiming  at?  What  do  you  wish  for?  What  do  you  hope? 
Do  you  dare  to  say?  You  deserve  that  I  should  smash  you  like  a  wine- 
glass.    I  can  do  it.  but  I  despise  you  too  much  to  take  the  trouble." 

All  of  this  was  undoubtedly  true,  but,  after  having  pub- 
licly said  it,  there  was  but  one  safe  course  for  Napoleon — to 
put  Talleyrand  where  he  could  no  h^iger  continue  his  plot- 
ting. He  made  the  mistake,  how-ever,  of  leaving  him  at 


The  disturbance  of  the  Continental  peace  came  from  Aus- 
tria. Encouraged  by  Napoleon's  absence  in  Spain,  and  the 
withdrawal  of  troops  from  Germany,  and  urged  by  Eng- 
land to  attempt  to  again  repair  her  losses,  Austria  had  hastily 
armed  herself,  hoping  to  be  able  to  reach  the  Rhine  be- 
fore Napoleon  could  collect  his  forces  and  meet  her.  At 
this  moment  Napoleon  could  command  about  the  same 
number  of  troops  as  the  Austrians,  but  they  were  scat- 
tered in  all  directions,  while  the  enemy's  were  already 
consolidated.  The  question  became,  then,  whether  he  could 
get  his  troops  together  before  the  Austrians  attacked.  From 
everv  direction  he  hurried  them  across  France  and  Germany 
towards  Ratisbonne.  On  the  12th  of  April  he  heard  in  Paris 
that  the  Austrians  had  crossed  the  Inn.  On  the  17th  the 
emperor  was  in  his  headquarters  at  Donauworth,  his  army 
well  in  hand.  "  Neither  in  ancient  or  modern  times,*'  says 
Jomini,  **  will  one  find  anything  which  equals  in  celerity  and 
admirable  precision  the  opening  of  this  campaign." 

In  the  next  ten  days  a  series  of  combats  broke  the  Austrian 
army,  drove  the  Archduke  Charles,  with  his  main  force, 
north  of  the  Danube,  and  opened  the  road  to  Vienna  to  the 
French.  On  the  12th  of  May,  one  month  from  the  day  he 
left  Paris,  Napoleon  wrote  from  Schonbrunn,  **  We  are 
masters  of  Vienna."    The  city  had  been  evacuated. 

Napoleon  lay  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Danube ;  the  Aus- 
trian army  under  the  Archduke  Charles  was  coming  to- 
wards the  city  by  the  left  bank ;  it  was  to  be  a  hand-to-hand 
struggle  under  the  vValls  of  Vienna.  The  emperor  was  un- 
certain of  the  archduke's  plans,  but  he  was  determined  that 
he  should  not  have  a  chance  to  reenforce  his  armv.  The 
battle  must  be  fought  at  once,  and  he  prepared  to  go  across 
the  river  to  attack  him.  The  place  of  crossing  he  chose  was 
south  of  Vienna,  where  the  large  island  Lobau  divides  the 
stream.     Bridges  had  to  built  for  the  passage,  and  it  was 



with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  the  work  was  accompHshed, 
for  the  river  was  high  and  the  current  swift,  and  anchors 
and  boats  were  scarce.  Again  and  again  the  boats  broke 
apart.  Nevertheless,  about  thirty  thousand  of  the  French 
got  over,  and  took  possession  of  the  villages  of  Aspern  and 
Essling,  where  they  were  attacked  on  May  21st  by  some 
eighty  thousand  Austrians. 

The  battle  which  followed  lasted  all  day,  and  the  French 
sustained  themselves  heroically.  That  night  reenforce- 
ments  were  gotten  over,  so  that  the  next  day  some  fifty-five 
thousand  men  were  on  the  French  side.  Napoleon  fought 
with  the  greatest  obstinacy,  hoping  that  another  division 
would  soon  succeed  in  getting  over,  and  would  enable  him 
to  overcome  the  superior  numbers  of  the  Austrians.  Al- 
ready the  battle  was  becoming  a  hand-to-hand  fight,  wdien 
the  terrible  news  came  that  the  bridge  over  the  Danube  had 
gone  down.  The  Austrians  had  sent  floating  down  the 
swollen  river  great  mills,  fire-lx>ats,  and  masses  of  timl^er 
fastened  together  in  such  a  way  as  to  become  battering- 
rams  of  frightful  power  when  carried  by  the  rapid  stream. 
All  hope  of  aid  was  gone,  and,  as  the  news  spread,  the 
army  resigned  itself  to  perish  sword  in  hand.  The  car- 
nage which  followed  was  horrible.  Towards  evening  one 
of  the  bravest  of  the  French  marshals,  Lannes,  was  fatally 
wounded.  It  seemed  as  if  fortune  had  determined  on  the 
loss  of  the  French,  and  Napoleon  decided  to  retreat  to 
the  island  of  Lobau,  where  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  main- 
tain his  position,  and  secure  supplies  from  the  army  on  the 
right  bank,  until  he  had  time  to  build  bridges  and  unite  his 

Communications  were  soon  established  with  the  right 
bank,  but  the  isle  of  Lobau  was  not  deserted ;  it  was  used, 
in  fact,  as  a  camp  for  the  next  few  weeks,  while  Na- 
poleon was  sending  to  Italy,  to  France,  and  to  Germany,  for 


new  troops.  A  heavy  reenforcement  came  to  him  from 
Italy  with  news  which  did  much  to  encourage  him.  When 
the  war  began,  an  Austrian  army  had  invaded  Italy,  and 
at  first  had  success  in  its  engagements  against  the  French 
under  the  Viceroy  of  Italy,  Eugene  de  Beauharnais.  The 
news  of  the  ill-luck  of  the  Austrians  at  home,  and  of  the 
march  on  Vienna,  had  discouraged  the  leader.  Archduke 
John,  brother  of  Archduke  Charles,  and  he  had  retreated, 
Eugene  following.  Such  were  the  successes  of  the  French 
on  this  retreat,  that  the  Austrians  finally  retired  out  of  their 
way,  leaving  them  a  free  route  to  Vienna,  and  Eugene  soon 
united  his  army  to  that  of  the  emperor. 

With  the  greatest  rapidity  the  French  now  secured  and 
strengthened  their  communications  with  Italy  and  with 
France,  and  gathered  troops  about  Vienna.  The  whole 
month  of  June  was  passed  in  this  w-ay,  hostile  Europe  re- 
peating the  while  that  Napoleon  was  shut  in  by  the  Aus- 
trians and  could  not  move,  and  that  he  w^as  idling  his  time 
in  luxury  at  the  castle  of  Schonbrunn,  where  he  had  estab- 
lished his  headquarters.  But  this  month  of  apparent  in- 
activity was  only  a  feint.  By  the  ist  of  July  the  French 
Army  had  reached  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men. 
They  were  in  admirable  condition,  well  drilled,  fresh,  and 
confident.  Their  communications  were  strong,  their  camps 
good,  and  they  were  eager  for  battle. 

The  Austrians  were  encamped  at  Wagram,  to  the  north 
of  the  Danube.  They  had  fortified  the  banks  opposite  the 
island  of  Lobau  in  a  manner  which  they  believed  would  pre- 
vent the  French  from  attempting  a  passage ;  but  in  arrang- 
ing their  fortification  they  had  completely  neglected  a  certain 
portion  of  the  bank  on  which  Napoleon  seemed  to  have  no 
designs.  But  this  was  the  point,  naturally,  which  Napoleon 
chose  for  his  passage,  and  on  the  night  of  July  4th  he 
eflfected  it.     On  the  morning  of  the  5th  his  whole  army  of 


one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men,  with  four  hundred 
batteries,  was  on  the  left  bank.  In  the  midst  of  a  terrible 
storm  this  great  mass  of  men,  with  all  its  equipments,  had 
crossed  the  main  Danube,  several  islands  and  channels,  had 
built  six  bridges,  and  by  daybreak  had  arranged  itself  in 
order.     It  was  an  unheard-of  feat. 

Pushing  his  corps  forward,  and  easily  sweeping  out  of 
his  way  the  advance  posts,  Napoleon  soon  had  his  line 
facing  that  of  the  Austrians,  which  stretched  from  near  the 
Danube  to  a  point  east  of  Wagram.  At  seven  o'clock  on  the 
evening  of  July  5th  the  French  attacked  the  left  and  centre 
of  the  enemy,  but  without  driving  them  from  their  position. 
The  next  morning  it  was  the  Archduke  Charles  who  took 
the  offensive,  making  a  movement  which  changed  the  whole 
battle.  He  attacked  the  French  left,  which  was  nearest 
the  river,  with  fifty  thousand  men,  intending  to  get  on  their 
line  of  communication  and  destroy  the  bridges  across  the 
Danube.  The  troops  on  the  French  centre  were  obliged  to 
hurry  off  to  prevent  this,  and  the  army  was  weakened  for 
a  moment,  but  not  long.  Napoleon  determined  to  make  the 
Archduke  Charles,  who  in  person  commanded  this  attack 
on  the  French  left,  return,  not  by  following  him,  but  by 
breaking  his  centre;  and  he  turned  his  heavy  batteries 
against  this  portion  of  the  army,  and  followed  them  by  a 
cavalry  attack,  which  routed  the  enemy.  At  the  same  time 
their  left  was  broken,  and  the  troops  which  had  been  en- 
gaging it  were  free  to  hurry  off  against  the  Austrian  right, 
which  was  trying  to  reach  the  bridges,  and  which  were  be- 
ing held  in  check  with  difficulty  at  Essling.  As  soon  as  the 
archduke  saw  what  had  happened  to  his  left  and  centre  he 
retired,  preferring  to  preserve  as  much  as  possible  of  his 
army  in  good  order.  The  French  did  not  pursue.  The  battle 
had  cost  them  too  heavily.  But  if  the  Austrians  escaped 
from   Wagram   with   their   army,   and   if   their  opponents 


Ihrane.    he 

'ndcd    Ihe 

c  did  nol 


gained  little  more  than  the  name  of  a  victory,  they  were  too 
discouraged  to  continue  the  war,  and  the  emperor  sued  for 

This  peace  was  concluded  in  October.  Austria  was 
forced  to  give  up  Trieste  and  all  her  Adriatic  possessions, 
to  cede  territory  to  Bavaria  and  to  the  Grand  Duchy  of 
Warsaw,  and  to  give  her  consent  to  the  continental  system. 



TO  further  the  universal  peace  he  desired,  to  prevent 
plots  among  his  subordinates  who  would  aspire  to 
his  crown  in  case  of  his  sudden  death,  and  to  assure 
a  succession.  Napoleon  now  decided  to  take  a  step  long  in 
mind — to  divorce  Josephine,  by  whom  he  no  longer  hoped 
to  have  heirs. 

In  considering  Napoleon's  divorce  of  Josephine,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  stability  of  government  was  of  vital 
necessity  to  the  permanency  of  the  Napoleonic  institutions. 
Napoleon  had  turned  into  practical  realities  most  of  the  re- 
forms demanded  in  1789.  True,  he  had  done  it  by  the  exer- 
cise of  desi)otism,  but  nothing  but  the  courage,  the  will,  the 
audacity  of  a  despot  could  have  aroused  the  nation  in  1799. 
Napoleon  felt  that  these  institutions  had  been  so  short  a  time 
in  operation  that  in  case  of  his  death  they  would  easily  topple 
over,  and  his  kingdom  go  to  pieces  as  Alexander's  had.  If 
he  could  leave  an  heir,  this  disaster  would,  he  believed,  be 

Then,  would  not  a  marriage  with  a  foreign  princess  calm 
the  fears  of  his  Continental  enemies?  Would  thev  not  see 
in  such  an  alliance  an  effort  on  the  part  of  new,  liberal 
France  to  adjust  herself  harmoniously  to  the  system  of  gov- 
ernment which  prevailed  on  the  Continent? 

Thus,  by  a  new  marriage,  he  hoped  to  prevent  at  his 
death  a  series  of  fresh  revolutions,  save  the  splendid  organi- 
zation he  had  created,  and  put  France  in  greater  harmony 



with  her  environment.  It  is  to  misunderstand  Napoleon's 
scheme,  to  attribute  this  divorce  simply  to  a  gigantic  ego- 
tism. To  assure  his  dynasty,  was  to  assure  France  of  liberal 
institutions.  His  glorification  was  his  country's.  In  reality 
there  were  the  same  reasons  for  divorcing  Josephine  that 
there  had  been  for  taking  the  crown  in  1804. 

Josephine  had  long  feared  a  separation.  The  Bonapartes 
had  never  cared  for  her,  and  even  so  far  back  as  the  Egyptian 
campaign  had  urged  Nai)oleon  to  seek  a  divorce.  Unwisely, 
she  had  not  sought  in  her  early  married  life  to  win  their 
affection  any  more  than  she  had  to  keep  Napoleon's;  and 
when  the  emperor  was  crowned,  they  had  done  their  best 
to  prevent  her  coronation.  W'^hen,  for  state  reasons,  the 
divorce  seemed  necessary,  Josephine  had  no  supporters 
where  she  might  have  had  many. 

Her  grief  was  more  poignant  because  she  had  come  to 
love  her  husband  with  a  real  ardor.  The  jealousy  from 
which  he  had  once  suffered  she  now  felt,  and  Napoleon 
certainly  gave  her  ample  cause  for  it.  Her  anxiety  was  well 
known  to  all  the  court,  the  secretaries  Bourrienne  and  Me- 
neval,  and  Madame  de  Remusat  being  her  special  confi- 
dants. Since  1807  it  had  been  intense,  for  it  was  in  that 
year  that  Fouche,  probably  at  Napoleon*s  instigation,  tried 
to  persuade  the  empress  to  suggest  the  divorce  herself  as  her 
sacrifice  to  the  country. 

After  Wagram  it  became  evident  to  her  that  at  last  her 
fate  was  sealed ;  but  though  she  beset  Meneval  and  all  the 
members  of  her  household  for  information,  it  was  only  a 
fortnight  before  the  public  divorce  that  she  knew  her  fate. 
It  was  Josephine's  own  son  and  daughter,  Eugene  and  Hor- 
tense,  who  broke  the  news  to  her ;  and  it  was  on  the  former 
that  the  cruel  task  fell  of  indorsing  the  divorce  in  the  Sen- 
ate in  the  name  of  himself  and  his  sister. 

Josephine  was  terribly  broken  by  her  disgrace,  but  she 


bore  it  with  a  sweetness  and  dignity  which  does  much  to 
make  posterity  forget  her  earlier  frivolity  and  insincerity. 

**  I  can  never  forget  [says  Pasquier]  the  evening  on  which  the  dis- 
carded empress  did  the  honors  of  her  court  for  the  last  time.  It 
was  the  day  before  the  official  dissolution.  A  great  throng  was 
present,  and  supper  was  served,  according  to  custom,  in  the  gallery 
of  Diana,  on  a  number  of  little  tables.  Josephine  sat  at  the  centre  one. 
and  the  men  went  around  her,  waiting  for  that  particularly  graceful 
nod  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of  bestowing  on  those  with  whom 
she  was  acquainted.  I  stood  at  a  short  distance  from  her  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  I  could  not  help  being  struck  with  the  perfection  of  her 
attitude  in  the  presence  of  all  these  people  who  still  did  her  homage, 
while  knowing  full  well  that  it  was  for  the  last  time;  that  in  an 
bour  she  would  descend  from  the  throne,  and  leave  the  palace  never  to 
reenter  it.  Only  women  can  rise  superior  to  such  a  situation,  but 
I  have  my  doubts  as  to  whether  a  second  one  could  have  been 
found  to  do  it  with  such  perfect  grace  and  composure.  Napoleon  did 
not  show  so  bold  a  front  as  did  his  victim." 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  Napoleon  suffered  deeply  over 
the  separation.  If  his  love  had  lost  its  illusion,  he  was 
genuinely  attached  to  Josephine,  and  in  a  w^ay  she  was  neces- 
sary to  his  happiness.  After  the  ceremony  of  separation, 
he  was  to  go  to  Saint  Cloud,  she  to  Malmaison.  While 
waiting  for  his  carriage,  he  returned  to  his  study  in  the 
palace.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  silent  and  depressed,  his 
head  on  his  hand.  When  he  was  summoned  he  rose,  his 
face  distorted  w^ith  pain,  and  went  into  the  empress's  apart- 
ment.   Josephine  was  alone. 

^Vhen  she  saw  the  emperor,  she  threw  herself  on  his  neck, 
sobbing  aloud.  He  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  kissed  her 
again  and  again,  until  overpowered  with  emotion,  she 
fainted.  Leaving  her  to  her  women,  he  hurried  to  his  car- 

Meneval,  who  saw  this  sad  parting,  remained  with 
Josephine  until  she  became  conscious.  When  he  left,  she 
begged  him  not  to  let  the  emperor  forget  her,  and  to  see  that 
he  wrote  her  often. 

Engtsved  in  1B41  hj  Louit.  attcr  ■  painlins  made  in  itj?  br  E 

i  called  the  "  SnnfF-tox."     Pnbabljt  ib*  t 
a  Napideon  portrait. 


"  I  left  her,"  that  naive  admirer  and  apologist  of  Na- 
poleon goes  on,  **  grieved  at  so  deep  a  sorrow  and  so  sincere 
an  affection.  I  felt  very  miserable  all  along  my  route,  and 
1  could  not  help  deploring  that  the  rigorous  exactions  of 
politics  should  violently  break  the  bonds  of  an  affection 
which  had  stood  the  test  of  time,  to  impose  another  union 
full  of  uncertaintv." 

Josephine  returned  to  Malmaison  to  live,  but  Napoleon 
took  care  that  she  should  have,  in  addition,  another  home, 
giving  her  Navarre,  a  chateau  near  Evreux,  some  fifty 
miles  from  Paris.  She  had  an  income  of  some  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  the  emperor  showed  rare 
thoughtfulness  in  providing  her  with  everything  she  could 
want.  She  was  to  deny  herself  nothing,  take  care  of  her 
health,  pay  no  attention  to  the  gossip  she  heard,  and  never 
doubt  of  his  love.  Such  were  the  recommendations  of  the 
frequent  letters  he  wrote  her.  Sometimes  he  went  to  see 
her,  and  he  told  her  all  the  details  of  his  life.  It  is  certain 
that  he  neglected  no  opportunity  of  comforting  her,  and  that 
she,  on  her  side,  finally  accepted  her  lot  with  resignation  and 

Over  two  years  before  the  divorce  a  list  of  the  marriage- 
able princesses  of  Europe  had  been  drawn  up  for  Napoleon. 
This  list  included  eighteen  names  in  all,  the  two  most  promi- 
nent being  Marie  Louise  of  Austria,  and  Anna  Paulowna, 
sister  of  Alexander  of  Russia.  At  the  Erfurt  conference 
the  project  of  a  marriage  with  a  Russian  princess  had  been 
discussed,  and  Alexander  had  favored  it;  but  now  that  an 
attempt  was  made  to  negotiate  the  affair,  there  were  nu- 
merous delays,  and  a  general  lukewarmness  which  angered 
Napoleon.  Without  waiting  for  the  completion  of  the  Rus- 
sian negotiations,  he  decided  on  Marie  Louise. 

The  marriage  ceremony  was  performed  in  Vienna  on 
March  12,  18 10,  the  Archduke  Charles  acting  for  Napoleon. 


The  emperor  first  saw  his  new  wife  some  days  later  on  the 
road  between  Soissons  and  Compiegne,  where  he  had  gone 
to  meet  her  in  most  unimperial  haste,  and  in  contradiction 
to  the  pompous  and  compHcated  ceremony  which  had  been 
arranged  for  their  first  interview.  From  the  beginning  he 
was  frankly  delighted  with  Marie  Louise.  In  fact,  the  new 
empress  was  a  most  attractive  girl,  young,  fresh,  modest 
well-bred,  and  innocent.  She  entirely  filled  Napoleon's  ideal 
of  a  wife,  and  he  certainly  was  happy  with  her. 

Marie  Louise  in  marrying  Napoleon  had  felt  that  she 
was  a  kind  of  sacrificial  offering,  for  she  had  naturally  a 
deep  horror  of  the  man  who  had  caused  her  country  so 
much  w^oe;  but  her  dread  was  soon  dispelled,  and  she  be- 
came very  fond  of  her  husband.  Outside  of  the  court  the 
two  led  an  amusingly  simple  life,  riding  together  inform- 
ally early  in  the  morning,  in  a  gay  Bohemian  way;  sitting 
together  alone  in  the  empress's  little  salon,  she  at  her  needle- 
work, he  with  a  book.  They  .even  indulged  now  and  then  in 
quiet  little  larks  of  their  own,  as  one  day  when  Marie  Louise 
attempted  to  make  an  omelet  in  her  apartments.  Just  as  she 
was  completely  engrossed  in  her  work,  the  emperor  came  in. 
The  empress  tried  to  conceal  her  culinary  operations,  but 
Napoleon  detected  the  odor. 

**  What  is  going  on  here?  There  is  a  singular  smell, 
as  if  something  was  being  fried.  What,  you  are  making  an 
omelet !  Bah !  vou  don't  know  how  to  do  it.  I  will  show 
you  how  it  is  done." 

And  he  set  to  work  to  instruct  her.  They  got  on  very 
well  until  it  came  to  tossing  it,  an  operation  Napoleon  in- 
sisted on  performing  himself,  with  the  result  that  he  landed 
it  on  the  floor. 

On  March  20,  181 1,  the  long-desired  heir  to  the  French 
throne  was  born.  It  had  been  arranged  that  the  birth  of  the 
child  should  be  announced  to  the  people  by  cannon  shot; 


twenty-one  if  it  were  a  princess,  one  hundred  and  one  if 
a  prince.  The  people  who  thronged  the  quays  and  streets 
about  the  Tuileries  waited  with  inexpressible  anxiety  as  the 
cannon  boomed  forth;  one — two — three.  As  twenty-one 
died  away  the  city  held  its  breath;  then  came  twenty-two. 
the  thundering  peals  which  followed  it  were  drowned  in  the 
wild  enthusiasm  of  the  people.  For  days  afterward,  ener- 
vated by  joy  and  the  endless  fcfcs  given  them,  the  French 
drank  and  sang  to  the  King  of  Rome. 

In  all  these  rejoicings  none  were  so  touching  as  at  Na- 
varre, where  Josephine,  on  hearing  the  cannon,  called  to- 
gether her  friends  and  said,  **  We,  too,  must  have  a  fete, 
I  shall  give  you  a  ball,  and  the  whole  city  of  Evreux  must 
come  and  rejoice  with  us." 

Napoleon  w^as  the  happiest  of  men,  and  he  devoted  himself 
to  his  son  with  pride.  Reports  of  the  boy's  condition  appear 
frequently  in  his  letters;  he  even  allowed  him  to  be  taken 
without  the  empress's  knowledge  to  Josephine,  who  had 
begged  to  see  him. 




HIS  child  in  concert  with  our  Eugene  will  constitute 
our  happiness  and  that  of  France/'  so  Napoleon 
had  written  Josephine  after  the  birth  of  the  King 
of  Rome,  but  it  soon  became  evident  that  he  was  wrong. 
There  were  causes  of  uneasiness  and  discontent  in  France 
which  had  been  operating  for  a  long  time,  and  which  were 
only  aggravated  by  the  apparent  solidity  that  an  heir  gave 
to  the  Napoleonic  dynasty. 

First  among  these  was  religious  disaffection.  Towards 
the  end  of  1808,  being  doubtful  of  the  Pope's  loyalty,  Na- 
poleon had  sent  French  troops  to  Rome:  the  spring  follow- 
ing, without  any  plausible  excuse,  he  had  annexed  four 
Papal  States  to  the  kingdom  of  Italy;  and  in  1809  the  Pope 
had  been  made  a  prisoner  at  Savona.  When  the  divorce 
was  asked,  it  was  not  the  Pope,  but  the  clergy,  of  Paris, 
who  had  granted  it.  When  the  religious  marriage  of  Marie 
Louise  and  Napoleon  came  to  be  celebrated,  thirteen  cardi- 
nals refused  to  appear;  the  **  black  cardinals"  they  were 
thereafter  called,  one  of  their  punishments  for  non-appear- 
ance at  the  wedding  being  that  they  could  no  longer  wear 
their  red  gowns.  To  the  pious  all  this  friction  with  the 
fathers  of  the  Church  was  a  deplorable  irritation.  It  was 
impossible  to  show  contempt  for  the  authority  of  Pope  and 
cardinals  and  not  wound  one  of  the  deepest  sentiments  of 
France,  and  one  which  ten  years  before  Napoleon  had  braved 
most  to  satisfv. 






Engrave-I  by  Robinnm.  af»-.  ^  ,.=iT,i.„K 

niadi:  in   i8j6  by  \\ilkit 


To  the  irritation  against  the  emperor's  church  policy  was 
added  bitter  resentment  against  the  conscription,  that  tax 
of  blood  and  muscle, demanded  of  the  country.  Napoleon 
had  formulated  and  attempted  to  make  tolerable  the  prin- 
ciple born  of  the  Revolution,  which  declared  that  every  male 
citizen  of  age  owed  the  state  a  service  of  blood  in  case  it 
needed  him.  The  wisdom  of  his  management  of  the  con- 
scription had  prevented  discontent  until  1807;  then  the  draft 
on  life  had  begun  to  be  arbitrary  and  grievous.  The  laws 
of  exemptions  were  disregarded.  The  "  only  son  of 
his  mother ''  no  longer  remained  at  her  side.  The  father 
whose  little  children  were  motherless  must  leave  them; 
aged  and  helpless  parents  no  longer  gave  immunity. 
Those  who  had  bought  their  exemption  by  heavy  sacrifices 
were  obliged  to  go.  Persons  whom  the  law  made  subject 
to  conscription  in  1807,  were  called  out  in  1806;  those  of 
1808,  in  1807.  So  far  was  this  premature  drafting  pushed, 
that  the  armies  were  said  to  be  made  up  of  *'  boy  soldiers," 
weak,  unformed  youths,  fresh  from  school,  who  wilted  in  a 
sun  like  that  of  Spain,  and  dropped  out  in  the  march. 

At  the  rate  at  which  men  had  been  killed,  however,  there 
was  no  other  way  of  keeping  up  the  army.  Between  1804 
and  181 1  one  million  seven  hundred  thousand  men  had 
perished  in  battle.  What  wonder  that  now  the  boys  of 
France  were  pressed  into  service!  At  the  same  time  the 
country  was  overrun  with  the  lame,  the  blind,  the  broken- 
down,  who  had  come  back  from  war  to  live  on  their  friends 
or  on  charity.  It  was  not  only  the  funeral  crape  on  almost 
every  door  which  made  Frenchmen  hate  the  conscription,  it 
was  the  crippled  men  whom  they  met  at  every  corner. 

While  within,  the  people  fretted  over  the  religious  dis- 
turbances and  the  abuses  of  the  conscription,  without,  the 
continental  blockade  was  causing  serious  trouble  between 
Napoleon  and  the  kings  he  ruled.    In  spite  of  all  his  eflforts 


English  merchandise  penetrated  everywhere.  The  fair  at 
Rotterdam  in  1807  was  filled  with  English  goods.  They 
passed  into  Italy  under  false  seals.  They  came  into  France 
on  pretence  that  they  were  for  the  empress.  Napoleon  re- 
monstrated and  threatened,  but  he  could  not  check  the 
traffic.  The  most  serious  trouble  caused  by  this  violation 
of  the  Berlin  Decree  was  with  Louis,  King  of  Holland. 
In  1808  Napoleon  complained  to  his  brother  that  more  than 
one  hundred  ships  passed  between  his  kingdom  and  England 
every  month,  and  a  year  later  he  wrote  in  desperation, 
"  Holland  is  an  English  province.'' 

The  relations  of  the  brothers  grew  more  and  more  bitter. 
Napoleon  resented  the  half  support  Louis  gave  him,  and  as 
a  punishment  he  took  away  his  provinces,  filled  his  forts 
with  French  troops,  threatened  him  with  war  if  he  did  not 
break  up  the  trade.  So  far  did  these  hostilities  go,  that 
in  the  summer  of  18 10  King  Louis  abdicated  in  favor  of  his 
son  and  retired  to  Austria.  Napoleon  tried  his  best  to  per- 
suade him  at  least  to  return  into  French  territory,  but  he 
refused.  This  break  was  the  sadder  because  Louis  was  the 
brother  for  whom  Napoleon  had  really  done  most. 

Joseph  was  not  happier  than  Louis.  The  Spanish  war 
still  w^ent  on,  and  no  better  than  in  1808.  Joseph,  hum- 
bled and  unhappy,  had  even  prayed  to  be  freed  of  the  throne. 

The  relations  with  Sweden  were  seriously  strained.  Since 
18 10  Bernadotte  had  been  by  adoption  the  crown  prince  of 
that  country.  Although  he  had  emphatically  refused,  in 
accepting  the  position,  to  agree  never  to  take  up  arms  against 
France,  as  Napoleon  w-ished  him  to  do,  he  had  later  con- 
sented to  the  continental  blockade,  and  had  declared  war 
against  England;  but  this  declaration  both  England  and 
Sweden  considered  simply  as  a  fagon  de  parler.  Napoleon, 
conscious  that  Bernadotte  was  not  carrying  out  the  blockade, 
and  irritated  by  his  persistent  refusal  to  enter  into  French 

by  Weber,  ifier  Steub* 

Sli."     Engraved 


combinations,  and  pay  tribute  to  carry  on  French  wars,  had 
suppressed  his  revenues  as  a  French  prince — Bernadotte  had 
been  created  Prince  of  Ponte-Corvo  in  1806 — had  refused 
to  communicate  with  him,  and  when  the  King  of  Rome  was 
born  had  sent  back  the  Swedish  decoration  offered.  Finally, 
in  January,  181 2,  French  troops  invaded  certain  Swedish 
possessions,  and  the  country  concluded  an  alliance  with 
England  and  Russia. 

With  Russia,,  the  **  other  half"  of  the  machine,  the  ally 
upon  whom  the  great  plan  of  Tilsit  and  Erfurt  depended, 
there  was  such  a  bad  state  of  feeling  that,  in  181 1,  it  became 
certain  that  war  would  result.  Causes  had  been  accumu- 
lating upon  each  side  since  the  Erfurt  meeting. 

The  continental  system  weighed  heavily  on  the  interests 
of  Russia.  The  people  constantly  rel)elled  against  it  and 
evaded  it  in  every  way.  The  business  depressions  from 
which  they  suffered  they  charged  to  Napoleon,  and  a  strong 
party  arose  in  the  empire  which  used  every  method  of 
showing  the  czar  that  the  "  unnatural  alliance,"  as  they  called 
the  agreement  between  Alexander  and  Napoleon,  was  un- 
popular. The  czar  could  not  refuse  to  listen  to  this  party. 
More,  he  feared  that  Napoleon  was  getting  ready  to  restore 
Poland.  He  was  offended  by  the  haste  with  which  his  ally 
had  dismissed  the  idea  of  marriage  with  his  sister  and  had 
taken  up  Marie  Louise.  He  complained  of  the  changes  of 
boundaries  in  Germany.  Napoleon,  on  his  part,  saw  with 
irritation  that  English  goods  were  admitted  into  Russia.  He 
resented  the  failure  of  Alexander  to  join  heartily  in  the  wide- 
sweeping  application  he  had  made  of  the  Berlin  and  Milan 
Decrees,  and  to  persecute  neutral  flags  of  all  nations,  even  of 
those  so  far  away  from  the  Continent  as  the  United  States. 
He  remembered  that  Russia  had  not  supported  him  loyally 
in  1809.     He  was  suspicious,  too,  of  the  good  understand- 

Engraved  ty   W,    Bromkr.  aficr  Sir  Thomai  La* 


ing  which  seemed  to  be  growing  between  Sweden,  Russia, 
and  England. 

During  many  months  the  two  emperors  remained  in  a 
half -hostile  condition,  but  the  strain  finally  became  too  great. 
War  was  inevitable,  and  Napoleon  set  about  preparing  for 
the  struggle.  During  the  latter  months  of  181 1  and  the 
first  of  181 2  his  attention  was  given  almost  entirely  to  the 
military  and  diplomatic  preparations  necessary  before  be- 
ginning the  Russian  campaign.  By  the  ist  of  May,  18 12, 
he  was  ready  to  join  his  army,  which  he  had  centred  at 
Dresden.  Accompanied  by  Marie  Louise  he  arrived  at 
Dresden  on  the  i6th  of  May,  18 12,  where  he  was  greeted 
by  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  other 
sovereigns  with  whom  he  had  formed  alliances. 

The  force  Napoleon  had  brought  to  the  field  showed 
graphically  the  extension  and  the  character  of  the  France 
of  1812.  The  **  army  of  twenty  nations,''  the  Russians 
called  the  host  which  was  preparing  to  meet  them,  and  the 
expression  was  just,  for  in  the  ranks  there  were  Spaniards, 
Neapolitans,  Piedmontese,  Slavs,  Kroats,  Bavarians,  Dutch- 
men, Poles,  Romans,  and  a  dozen  other  nationalities,  side 
by  side  with  Frenchmen.  Indeed,  nearly  one-half  the  force 
was  said  to  be  foreign.  The  Grand  Army,  as  the  active  body 
was  called,  numbered,  to  quote  the  popular  figures,  six  hun- 
dred and  seventy-eight  thousand  men.  It  is  sure  that  this  is 
an  exaggerated  number,  though  certainly  over  half  a  mil- 
lion men  entered  Russia.  With  reserves,  the  whole  force 
numbered  one  million  one  hundred  thousand.  The  neces- 
sity for  so  large  a  body  of  reserves  is  explained  by  the  length 
of  the  line  of  communication  Napoleon  had  to  keep.  From 
the  Nieman  to  Paris  the  way  must  be  open,  supply  stations 
guarded,  fortified  towns  equipped.  It  took  nearly  as  many 
men  to  insure  the  rear  of  the  Grand  Army  as  it  did  to  make 
up  the  army  itself. 

PiinlinK  by  Lawrence.  Cotlecljon  of  the  Due  de  Basuno.  Thii  poHi 
Napoleon  II,  i<  an  exquisite  work  of  ait.  a  bright  and  freab  color-hai 
Lawrence  muK  have  eiecuted  this  porlrail  while  Iravelline  in  Europe,  w 

a  yeai.  to  paint  for  the  Rreat  Windsor  gallery  the  portraiti  ol  all 
■■  du  grand  Imiard  de  lValerli?o."—A.   D. 


With  this  imposing  force  at  his  command,  Napoleon 
believed  that  he  could  compel  Alexander  to  suppport  the 
continental  blockade,  for  come  what  might  that  system 
must  succeed.  For  it  the  reigning  house  had  been  driven 
from  Portugal,  the  Pope  despoiled  and  imprisoned,  Louis 
gone  into  exile,  Bernadotte  driven  into  a  new  alliance.  For 
it  the  Grand  Army  was  led  into  Russia.  It  had  become, 
as  its  inventor  proclaimed,  the  fundamental  law  of  the  em- 

Until  he  crossed  the  Nieman,  Napoleon  preserved  the 
hope  of  being  able  to  avoid  war.  Numerous  letters  to  the 
Russian  emperor,  almost  pathetic  in  their  overtures,  exist. 
But  Alexander  never  replied.  He  simply  allowed  his  enemy 
to  advance.  The  Grand  Army  was  doomed  to  make  the 
Russian  campaign. 

By  Girodcl.      From  the  collection  of   Motuieui  Ctaeramy  □[  Paris. 




IF  one  draws  a  triangle,  its  base  stretching  along  the  Nie- 
man  from  Tilsit  to  Grodno,  its  apex  on  the  Elbe,  he  will 
have  a  rough  outline  of  the  **  army  of  twenty  nations  " 
as  it  lay  in  June,  1812.  Napoleon,  some  two  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  men  around  him,  was  at  Kowno,  hesi- 
tating to  advance,  reluctant  to  believe  that  Alexander  would 
not  make  peace. 

When  he  finally  moved,  it  was  not  with  the  precision  and 
swiftness  which  had  characterized  his  former  campaigns. 
When  he  began  to  fight,  it  was  against  new  odds.  He  found 
that  his  enemies  had  been  studying  the  Spanish  campaigns, 
and  that  they  had  adopted  the  tactics  which  had  so  nearly 
ruined  his  armies  in  the  Peninsula:  they  refused  to  give 
him  a  general  battle  retreating  constantly  before  him; 
they  harassed  his  separate  corps  with  indecisive  contests; 
they  wasted  the  country  as  they  went.  The  people  aided 
their  soldiers  as  the  Spaniards  had  done.  **  Tell  us  only  the 
moment,  and  we  will  set  fire  to  our  buildings,''  said  the 

By  the  12th  of  August,  Napoleon  was  at  Smolensk,  the 
key  of  Moscow.  At  a  cost  of  twelve  thousand  men  killed 
and  wounded,  he  took  the  town,  only  to  find,  instead  of  the 
well-victualled  shelter  he  hoped,  a  smoking  ruin.  The 
French  army  had  suffered  frightfully  from  sickness,  from 
scarcity  of  supplies,  and  from  useless  fighting  on  the  march 


EnRTivrJ  hx  TardLeu.  afler 


from  the  Nieman  to  Smolensk.  They  had  not  had  the  stim- 
ulus of  a  great  victory;  they  began  to  feel  that  this  steady 
retreat  of  the  enemy  was  only  a  fatal  trap  into  which  they 
were  falling.  Every  consideration  forbade  them  to  march 
into  Russia  so  late  in  the  year,  yet  on  they  went  towards 
Moscow,  over  ruined  fields  and  through  empty  villages. 
This  terrible  pursuit  lasted  until  September  7th,  when  the 
Russians,  to  content  their  soldiers,  who  were  complaining 
loudly  because  they  were  not  allowed  to  engage  the  French, 
gave  battle  at  Borodino,  the  battle  of  the  Moskova,  as  the 
French  call  it. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  this  engagement,  Na- 
poleon issued  one  of  his  stirring  bulletins: 

"  Soldiers !  Here  is  the  battle  which  you  have  so  long  desired  ! 
Henceforth  the  victory  depends  upon  you ;  it  is  necessary  for  us.  It  will 
give  you  abundance,  good  winter  quarters,  and  a  speedy  return  to 
your  country !  Behave  as  you  did  at  Austerlitz.  at  Friedland,  at  Vitebsk, 
at  Smolensk,  and  the  most  remote  posterity  will  quote  with  pride  your 
conduct  on  this  day :  let  it  say  of  you :  he  was  at  the  great  battle  under 
the  walls  of  Moscow/' 

The  French  gained  the  battle  at  Borodino,  at  a  cost  of 
some  thirty  thousand  men,  but  they  did  not  destroy  the  Rus- 
sian army.  Although  the  Russians  lost  fifty  thousand  men, 
they  retreated  in  good  order.  Under  the  circumstances,  a 
victory  which  allowed  the  enemy  to  retire  in  order  was  of 
little  use.  It  was  Napoleon's  fault,  the  critics  said :  he  was 
inactive.  But  it  was  not  sluggishness  which  troubled  Na- 
poleon at  Borodino.  He  had  a  new  enemy — a  headache. 
On  the  day  of  the  battle  he  suffered  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  retire  to  a  ravine  to  escape  the  icy  wind.  In  this  sheltered 
spot  he  paced  up  and  down  all  day,  giving  his  orders  from 
the  reports  brought  him. 

Moscow  was  entered  on  the  15th  of  September.  Here  the 
French  found  at  last  food  and  shelter,  but  only  for  a  few 


hours.  That  night  Moscow  burst  into  flames,  set  on  fire 
by  the  authorities,  by  whom  it  had  been  abandoned.  It  was 
three  days  before  the  fire  was  arrested.  It  would  cost  Rus- 
sia two  hundred  years  of  time,  two  hundred  milHons  of 
money,  to  repair  the  loss  which  she  had  sustained.  Napoleon 
wrote  to  France. 

Suffering,  disorganization,  pillage,  followed  the  disaster. 
But  Napoleon  would  not  retreat.  He  hoped  to  make  peace. 
Moscow  was  still  smoking  when  he  wrote  a  long  description 
of  the  conflagration  to  Alexander.  The  closing  paragraph 

"  I  wage  war  against  your  Majesty  without  animosity ;  a  note  from 
you  before  or  after  the  last  battle  would  have  stopped  my  march,  and 
I  should  even  have  liked  to  sacrifice  the  advantage  of  entering 
Moscow.  If  your  Majesty  retains  some  remains  of  your  former  senti- 
ments, you  will  take  this  letter  in  good  part.  At  all  events,  you  will 
thank  me  for  giving  you  an  account  of  what  is  passing  at  Moscow." 

**  I  will  never  sign  a  peace  as  long  as  a  single  foe  remains 
on  Russian  ground/'  the  Emperor  Alexander  had  said  when 
he  heard  that  Napoleon  had  crossed  the  Nieman.  He  kept 
his  word  in  spite  of  all  Napoleon's  overtures.  The  French 
position  grew  worse  from  day  to  day.  No  food,  no  fresh 
supplies,  the  cold  increasing,  the  army  disheartened,  the 
number  of  Russians  around  Moscow  growing  larger.  Noth- 
ing but  a  retreat  could  save  the  remnant  of  the  French.  It 
began  on  October  19th,  one  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand 
men  leaving  Moscow.  They  were  followed  by  forty  thou- 
sand vehicles  loaded  with  the  sick  and  with  what  supplies 
they  could  get  hold  of.  The  route  was  over  the  fields  de- 
vastated a  month  before.  The  Cossacks  harassed  them  night 
and  day,  and  the  cruel  Russian  cold  dropped  from  the  skies, 
cutting  them  down  like  a  storm  of  scythes.  Before  Smo- 
lensk was  reached,  thousands  of  the  retreating  army  were 


Napoleon  had  ordered  that  provisions  and  clothing  should 
be  collected  at  Smolensk.  When  he  reached  the  city  he 
found  that  his  directions  had  not  been  obeyed.  The  army, 
exasperated  beyond  endurance  by  this  disappointment,  fell 
into  complete  and  frightful  disorganization,  and  the  rest  of 
the  retreat  was  like  the  falling  back  of  a  conquered  mob. 

There  is  no  space  here  for  the  details  of  this  terrible  march 
and  of  the  frightful  passage  of  the  Beresina.  The  terror  of 
the  cold  and  starvation  wrung  cries  from  Napoleon  himself. 

**  Provisions,  provisions,  provisions,*'  he  wrote  on  No- 
vember 29th  from  the  right  bank  of  the  Beresina.  "  With- 
out them  there  is  no  knowing  to  what  horrors  this  undis- 
ciplined mass  will  proceed.'' 

And  again :  '*  The  army  is  at  its  last  extremity.  It  is 
impossible  for  it  to  do  anything,  even  if  it  were  a  question 
of  defending  Paris." 

The  army  finally  reached  the  Nieman.  The  last  man  over 
was  Marshal  Ney.  **  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  was  asked.  "  The 
rear  guard  of  the  Grand  Army,"  was  the  sombre  reply  of 
the  noble  old  soldier. 

Some  forty  thousand  men  crossed  the  river,  but  of  these 
there  were  many  who  could  do  nothing  but  crawl  to  the  hos- 
pitals, asking  for  **  the  rooms  where  people  die."  It  was 
true,  as  Desprez  said,  the  Grand  Army  was  dead. 

It  was  on  this  horrible  retreat  that  Napoleon  received 
word  that  a  curious  thing  had  happened  in  Paris.  A  gen- 
eral and  an  abbe,  both  political  prisoners,  had  escaped,  and 
actually  had  succeeded  in  the  preliminaries  of  a  coup  d'etat 
overturning  the  empire,  and  substituting  a  provisional  gov- 

They  had  carried  out  their  scheme  simply  by  announcing 
that  Napoleon  was  dead,  and  by  reading  a  forged  proclama- 
tion from  the  senate  to  the  effect  that  the  imperial  govern- 
ment was  at  an  end  and  a  new  one  begun.    The  authorities 


to  whom  these  conspirators  had  gone  had  with  but  little 
hesitation  accepted  their  orders.  They  had  secured  twelve 
hundred  soldiers,  had  locked  up  the  prefect  of  police,  and 
had  taken  possession  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

The  foolhardy  enterprise  went,  it  is  true,  only  a  little  w^ay, 
but  far  enough  to  show  Paris  that  the  day  of  easy  revolution 
had  not  passed,  and  that  an  announcement  of  the  death  of 
Napoleon  did  not  bring  at  once  a  cry  of  **  Long  live  the 
King  of  Rome !  '*  Tlie  news  of  the  Malet  conspiracy  was  an 
astonishing  revelation  to  Napoleon  himself  of  the  instability 
of  French  public  sentiment.  He  saw  that  the  support  on 
which  he  had  depended  most  to  insure  his  institutions,  that 
is,  an  heir  to  his  throne,  was  set  aside  at  the  w^ord  of  a  worth- 
less agitator.  The  impression  made  on  his  generals  by  the 
news  was  one  of  consternation  and  despair.  The  emperor 
read  in  their  faces  that  they  believed  his  good  fortune  was 
waning.    He  decided  to  go  to  Paris  as  soon  as  possible. 

On  December  5th  he  left  the  army,  and  after  a  perilous 
journey  of  twelve  days  reached  the  French  capital.  It 
took  as  great  courage  to  face  France  now  as  it  had 
taken  audacity  to  attempt  the  invasion  of  Russia.  The 
grandest  army  the  nation  had  ever  sent  out  w^as  lying  be- 
hind him  dead.  His  throne  had  tottered  for  an  insiant  in 
sight  of  all  France.  Hereafter  he  could  not  believe  him- 
self invincible.  Already  his  enemies  were  suggesting  that 
since  his  good  genius  had  failed  him  once,  it  might  again. 

No  one  realized  the  gravity  of  the  position  as  Napoleon 
himself,  but  he  met  his  household,  his  ministers,  the  Council 
of  State,  the  Senate,  with  an  imperial  self-confidence  and 
a  sang  froid  which  are  awe-inspiring  under  the  circum- 
stances. The  horror  of  the  situation  of  the  army  was  not 
known  in  Paris  on  his  arrival,  but  reports  came  in  daily  until 
the  truth  w-as  clear  to  everybody.  But  Napoleon  never  lost 
countenance.     The  explanations  necessary  for  him  to  give 


to  the  Senate,  to  his  allies,  and  to  his  friends,  had  all  the 
serenity  and  the  plausibility  of  a  victor — a  victor  who  had 
suffered,  to  be  sure,  but  not  through  his  own  rashness  or 
mismanagement.  The  following  quotation  from  a  letter  to 
the  King  of  Denmark  illustrates  well  his  public  attitude  to- 
wards the  invasion  and  the  retreat  from  Moscow : 

*'  The  enemy  were  always  beaten,  and  captured  neither  an  eagle  nor 
a  gun  from  my  army.  On  the  7th  of  November  the  cold  became  intense ; 
all  the  roads  were  found  impracticable;  thirty  thousand  horses  perished 
between  the  7th  and  the  i6th.  A  portion  of  our  baggage  and  artillery 
wagons  was  broken  and  abandoned ;  our  soldiers,  little  accustomed 
to  such  weather,  could  not  endure  the  cold.  They  wandered  from 
the  ranks  in  quest  of  shelter  for  the  night,  and.  having  no  cavalry  to 
protect  them,  several  thousands  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy*s 
light  troops.  General  Sanson,  chief  of  the  topographic  corps,  was 
captured  by  some  Cossacks  while  he  was  engaged  in  sketching  a 
position.  Other  isolated  officers  shared  the  same  fate.  My  losses  arc 
severe,  but  the  enemy  cannot  attribute  to  themselves  the  honor  of 
having  inflicted  them.  My  army  has  suffered  greatly,  and  suffers  still, 
but  this  calamity  will  cease  with  the  cold." 

To  every  one  he  declared  that  it  was  the  Russians,  not  he, 
who  had  suffered.  It  was  their  great  city,  not  his,  which 
was  burnt;  their  fields,  not  his,  which  were  devastated. 
They  did  not  take  an  eagle,  did  not  win  a  battle.  It  was  the 
cold,  the  Cossacks,  which  had  done  the  mischief  to  the 
Grand  Army;  and  that  mischief?  Why,  it  would  be  soon 
repaired.     **  I  shall  be  back  on  the  Nieman  in  the  spring.'* 

But  the  very  man  who  in  public  and  private  calmed  and 
reassured  the  nation,  was  sometimes  himself  so  overwhelmed 
at  the  thought  of  the  disaster  which  he  had  just  witnessed, 
that  he  let  escape  a  cry  which  showed  that  it  was  only  his 
indomitable  will  which  was  carrying  him  through ;  that  his 
heart  was  bleeding.  In  the  midst  of  a  glowing  account  to 
the  legislative  body  of  his  success  during  the  invasion,  he 
suddenly  stopped.  "  In  a  few  nights  everything  changed. 
I  have  suffered  great  losses.    They  w^ould  have  broken  my 

^6  jL^^H 

«j  ,  1 


St ' 

«*  bmB 



K  ^ 

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■  /'  ■  '■-* 


5  ^plll 
i  ---si 

■  iHiJ 

5    llP=l 



heart  if  I  had  been  accessible  to  any  other  feelings  than  the 
interest,  the  glory,  and  the  future  of  my  people." 

In  the  teeth  of  the  terrible  news  coming  daily  to  Paris, 
Napoleon  began  preparations  for  another  campaign.  To 
every  one  he  talked  of  victory  as  certain.  Those  who  argued 
against  the  enterprise  he  silenced  temporarily.  **  You  should 
say,"  he  wrote  Eugene,  **  and  yourself  believe,  that  in  the 
next  campaign  I  shall  drive  the  Russians  back  across  the  Nie- 
man.''  With  the  first  news  of  the  passage  of  the  Beresina 
chilling  them,  the  Senate  voted  an  army  of  three  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  men;  the  allies  were  called  upon;  even 
the  marine  was  obliged  to  turn  men  over  to  the  land  force. 

But  something  besides  men  was  necessary.  An  army 
means  muskets  and  powder  and  sabres,  clothes  and  boots  and 
headgear,  wagons  and  cannon  and  caisson ;  and  all  these  it 
was  necessary  to  manufacture  afresh.  The  task  was  gigantic ; 
but  before  the  middle  of  April  it  was  completed,  and  the  em- 
peror was  ready  to  join  his  army. 

The  force  against  which  Napoleon  went  in  181 3  was  the 
most  formidable,  in  many  respects,  he  had  ever  encountered. 
Its  strength  was  greater.  It  included  Russia,  England, 
Spain,  Prussia,  and  Sweden,  and  the  allies  believed  Austria 
would  soon  join  them.  An  element  of  this  force  more 
powerful  than  its  numbers  was  its  spirit.  The  allied  armies 
fought  Napoleon  in  18 13  as  they  would  fight  an  enemy  of 
freedom.  Central  Europe  had  come  to  feel  that  further 
French  interference  was  intolerable.  The  w^ar  had  become 
a  crusade.  The  extent  of  this  feeling  is  illustrated  by  an 
incident  in  the  Prussian  army.  In  the  war  of  181 2  Prussia 
was  an  ally  of  the  French,  but  at  the  end  of  the  year  General 
Yorck,  who  commanded  a  Prussian  division,  went  over  to 
the  enemy.  It  was  a  dishonorable  action  from  a  military 
point  of  view,  but  his  explanation  that  he  deserted  as  "  a 
patriot  acting   for  the  welfare  of  his  country "  touched 


Prussia ;  and  though  the  king  disavowed  the  act,  the  people 
applauded  it. 

Thoughout  the  German  states  the  feeling  against  Napo- 
leon was  bitter.  A  veritable  crusade  had  been  undertaken 
against  him  by  such  men  as  Stein,  and  most  of  the  youth 
of  the  country  were  united  in  the  TagcndbiimU  or  League 
of  Virtue,  which  had  sworn  to  take  arms  for  German  free- 

When  Alexander  followed  the  French  across  the  Nieman, 
announcing  that  he  came  bringing  **  deliverance  to  Europe,'* 
and  calling  on  the  )eople  to  unite  against  the  **  common 
enemy,**  he  found  them  quick  to  understand  and  respond. 

Thus,  in  1813  Napoleon  did  no:  go  against  kings  and 
armies,  but  against  peoples.  No  one  understood  this  better 
than  he  did  himself,  and  he  counselled  his  allies  that  it  was 
not  against  the  foreign  enemy  alone  that  they  had  to  protect 
themselves.  **  There  is  one  more  dangerous  to  be  feared — 
the  spirit  of  revolt  and  anarchy.** 



THE  campaign  opened  May  2,  18 13,  southwest  of 
Leipsic,  with  the  battle  of  Liitzen.  It  was  Na- 
poleon's victory,  though  he  could  not  follow  it  up, 
as  he  had  no  cavalry.  The  moral  effect  of  Liitzen  was  ex- 
cellent in  the  French  army.  Among  the  allies  there  was  a 
return  to  the  old  dread  of  the  "  monster."  By  May  8th  the 
French  occupied  Dresden ;  from  there  they  crossed  the  Elbe, 
and  on  the  21st  fought  the  battle  of  Bautzen,  another  incom- 
plete victory  for  Napoleon.  The  next  day,  in  an  engage- 
ment with  the  Russian  rear  guard,  Marshal  Duroc,  one  of 
Napoleon's  warmest  and  oldest  friends,  was  killed.  It  was 
the  second  marshal  lost  since  the  campaign  began,  Bessieres 
having  been  killed  at  Liitzen. 

The  French  obtained  Breslau  on  June  ist,  and  three  days 
later  an  armistice  was  signed,  lasting  until  August  loth. 
It  was  hoped  that  peace  might  be  concluded  during  this 
armistice.  At  that  moment  Austria  held  the  key  to  the 
situation.  The  allies  saw  that  they  were  defeated  if  they 
could  not  persuade  her  to  join  them.  Napoleon,  his  old 
confidence  restored  by  a  series  of  victories,  hoped  to  keep 
his  Austrian  father-in-law  quiet  until  he  had  crushed  the 
Prussians  and  driven  the  Russians  across  the  Nieman.  Aus- 
tria saw  her  power,  and  determined  to  use  it  to  regain  terri- 
tory lost  in  1805  and  1809,  and  Metternich  came  to  Dresden 
to  see  Napoleon.  Austria  would  keep  peace  with  France,  he 
said  if  Napoleon  would  restore  Illyria  and  the  Polish  prov- 


Engraved  by  Uenedctti. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1813— CAMPAIGN  OF  1814     255 

inces,  would  send  the  Pope  back  to  Rome,  give  up  the  pro- 
tectorate of  the  Confederation  of  the  Rhine,  restore  Naples 
and  Spain.  Napoleon's  amazement  and  indignation  were 

*'  How  much  has  England  given  you  for  playing  this  role 
against  me,  Metternich  ?  ''    he  asked. 

A  semblance  of  a  congress  was  held  at  Prague  soon  after, 
but  it  was  only  a  mockery.  Such  was  the  exasperation  and 
suffering  of  Central  Europe,  that  peace  could  only  be  reached 
by  large  sacrifices  on  Napoleon's  part.  These  he  refused 
to  make.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  France  and  his  allies 
begged  him  to  compromise;  that  his  wisest  counsellors  ad- 
vised him  him  to  do  so.  But  he  repulsed  with  irritation 
all  such  suggestions.  "  You  bore  me  continually  about  the 
necessity  of  peace,"  he  wrote  Savary.  "  I  know  the  situa- 
tion of  my  empire  better  than  you  do;  no  one  is  more  in- 
terested in  concluding  peace  than  myself,  but  I  shall  not 
make  a  dishonorable  peace,  or  one  that  would  see  us  at  war 
again  in  six  months.  .  .  .  These  things  do  not  concern 

By  the  middle  of  August  the  campaign  began.  The 
French  had  in  the  field  some  three  hundred  and  sixty  thou- 
sand men.  This  force  was  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  armies, 
Swedish,  Russian,  Prussian,  and  Austrian,  in  all  some  eight 
hundred  thousand  men.  The  leaders  of  this  hostile  force 
included,  besides  the  natural  enemies  of  France,  Bernadotte, 
crow^n  prince  of  Sweden,  who  had  fought  with  Napo- 
leon in  Italy,  and  General  Moreau,  the  hero  of  Hohen- 
linden.  Moreau  was  on  Alexander's  staff.  He  had  reached 
the  army  the  night  that  the  armistice  expired,  having  sailed 
from  the  United  States  on  the  21st  of  June,  at  the  invitation 
of  the  Russian  emperor,  to  aid  in  the  campaign  against 
France.  He  had  been  greeted  by  the  allies  with  every  mark 
of  distinction.    Another  deserter  on  the  allies'  staff  was  the 


eminent  military  critic  Jomini.  In  the  ranks  were  stragglers 
from  all  the  French  corps,  and  the  Saxons  were  threatening 
to  leave  the  French  in  a  body,  and  go  over  to  the  allies. 

The  second  campaign  of  1813  opened  brilliantly  for  Na- 
poleon, for  at  Dresden  he  took  twenty  thousand  prisoners, 
and  captured  sixty  cannon.  The  victory  turned  the  anxiety 
of  Paris  to  hopefulness,  and  their  faith  in  Napoleon's  star 
was  further  revived  by  the  report  that  Moreau  had  fallen, 
both  legs  carried  off  by  a  French  bullet.  Moreau  himself 
felt  that  fate  was  friendly  to  the  emi)eror.  **  That  rascal 
Bonaparte  is  always  lucky,"  he  wrote  his  wife,  just  after 
the  amputation  of  his  legs. 

But  there  was  something  stronger  than  luck  at  work; 
the  allies  were  animated  by  a  spirit  of  nationality,  indomi- 
table in  its  force,  and  they  were  following  a  plan  which  was 
sure  to  crush  Napoleon  in  the  long  run.  It  was  one  laid 
out  by  Moreau ;  a  general  battle  was  not  to  be  risked,  but 
the  corps  of  the  French  were  to  be  engaged  one  by  one, 
until  the  parts  of  the  army  were  disabled.  In  turn  Van- 
damme,  Gudinot,  MacDonald,  Ney,  were  defeated,  and  in 
October  the  remnanis  of  the  French  fell  back  to  Leipsic. 
Here  the  horde  that  surrounded  them  was  suddenly  enlarged. 
The  Bavarians  had  gone  over  to  the  allies. 

A  three  days'  battle  at  Leipsic  exhausted  the  French,  and 
they  were  obliged  to  make  a  disastrous  retreat  to  the 
Rhine,  w^hich  they  crossed  November  ist.  Ten  days  later 
the  emperor  was  in  Paris. 

The  situation  of  France  at  the  end  of  18 13  was  deplorable. 
The  allies  lay  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine.  The  battle  of 
Vittoria  had  given  the  Spanish  boundary  to  Wellington, 
and  the  English  and  Spanish  armies  were  on  the  frontier. 
The  allies  which  remained  with  the  French  were  not  to  be 
trusted.  ''  All  Europe  was  marching  with  us  a  year  ago," 
Napoleon  said;  **  to-day  all  Europe  is  marching  against  us." 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1813— CAMPAIGN  OF  1814    257 

There  was  despair  among  his  generals,  alarm  in  Paris.  Be- 
sides, there  seemed  no  human  means  of  gathering  up  a  new 
armv.  Where  were  the  men  to  come  from?  France  was 
bled  to  death.  She  could  give  no  more.  Her  veins  were 

"  This  is  the  truth,  the  exact  truth,  and  such  is  the  secret 
and  the  explanation  of  all  that  has  since  occurred,"  says 
Pasquier.  "  With  these  successive  levies  of  conscriptions, 
past,  present,  and  to  come ;  with  the  Guards  of  Honor ;  with 
the  brevet  of  sub-Heutenant  forced  on  the  young  men  ap- 
pertaining to  the  best  families,  after  they  had  escaped  the 
conscript,  or  had  supplied  substitutes  in  conformity  with 
the  provisions  of  the  law,  there  did  not  remain  a  single 
family  which  was  not  in  anxiety  or  in  mourning." 

Yet  hedged  in  as  he  was  by  enemies,  threatened  by  an- 
archy, supported  by  a  fainting  people,  Napoleon  dallied  over 
the  peace  the  allies  offered.  The  terms  were  not  dishonorable. 
France  was  to  retire,  as  the  other  nations,  within  her  natural 
boundaries,  which  they  designated  as  the  Rhine,  the  Alps, 
and  the  Pyrenees.  But  the  emperor  could  not  believe  that 
Europe,  whom  he  had  defeated  so  often,  had  power  to  con- 
fine him  within  such  limits.  He  could  not  believe  that  such 
a  peace  would  be  stable,  and  he  began  preparations  for  re- 
sistance. Fresh  levies  of  troops  w^ere  made.  The  Spanish 
frontier  he  attempted  to  secure  by  making  peace  with  Ferdi- 
nand, recognizing  him  as  King  of  Spain.  He  tried  to  settle 
his  trouble  with  the  Pope. 

While  he  struggled  to  simplify  the  situation,  to  arouse 
national  spirit,  and  to  gather  reenforcements,  hostile  forces 
multiplied  and  closed  in  upon  him.  The  allies  crossed  the 
Rhine.  The  corps  legislatif  took  advantage  of  his  necessity 
to  demand  the  restoration  of  certain  rights  which  he  had 
taken  from  them.  In  his  anger  at  their  audacity,  the  em- 
peror alienated  pubKc  sympathy  by  dissolving  the  body. 


"  I  stood  in  need  of  something  to  console  me/'  he  told  them, 
"  and  you  have  sought  to  dishonor  me.  I  was  expecting 
that  you  would  unite  in  mind  and  deed  to  drive  out  the  for- 
eigner ;  you  have  bid  him  come.  Indeed,  had  I  lost  two  bat- 
tles, it  would  not  have  done  France  any  greater  evil."  To 
crown  his  evil  day,  Murat,  Caroline's  husband,  now  King  of 
Naples,  abandoned  him.  This  betrayal  was  the  more  bitter 
because  his  sister  herself  was  the  cause  of  it.  Fearful  of 
losing  her  little  glory  as  Queen  of  Naples,  Caroline  watched 
the  course  of  events  until  she  was  certain  that  her  brother 
was  lost,  and  then  urged  Murat  to  conclude  a  peace  with 
England  and  Austria. 

This  accumulation  of  reverses,  coming  upon  him  as  he 
tried  to  prepare  for  battle,  drove  Napoleon  to  approach  the 
allies  with  proposals  of  peace.  It  was  too  late.  The  idea  had 
taken  root  that  France,  with  Napoleon  at  her  head,  would 
never  remain  in  her  natural  limits;  that  the  only  hope  for 
Europe  was  to  crush  him  completely.  This  hatred  of  Napo- 
leon had  become  almost  fanatical,  and  made  any  terms  of 
peace  with  him  impossible. 

By  the  end  of  January,  1814,  the  emperor  was  ready  to 
renew^  the  struggle.  The  day  before  he  left  Paris,  he  led  the 
empress  and  the  King  of  Rome  to  the  court  of  the  Tuileries, 
and  presented  them  to  the  National  Guard.  He  was  leaving 
them  what  he  held  dearest  in  the  world,  he  told  them.  The 
enemy  were  closing  around ;  they  might  reach  Paris ;  they 
might  even  destroy  the  city.  While  he  fought  without  to 
shield  France  from  this  calamity,  he  prayed  them  to  protect 
the  priceless  trust  left  within.  The  nobility  and  sincerity  of 
the  feeling  that  stirred  the  emperor  were  unquestionable; 
tears  flowed  down  the  cheeks  of  the  men  to  whom  he  spoke, 
and  for  a  moment  every  heart  w^as  animated  by  the  old  emo- 
tion, and  they  took  with  eagerness  the  oath  he  asked. 

The  next  day  he  left  Paris.     The  army  he  commanded  did 

CAMPAIGN  OF  i8 13— CAMPAIGN  OF  18 14     259 

not  number  more  than  sixty  thousand  men.  He  led  it 
against  a  force  which,  counting  only  those  who  had  crossed 
the  Rhine,  numbered  nearly  six  hundred  thousand. 

In  the  campaign  of  two  months  which  followed,  Napoleon 
several  times  defeated  the  allies.  In  spite  of  the  terrible  dis- 
advantages under  which  he  fought,  he  nearly  drove  them 
from  the  country.  In  every  way  the  campaign  was  worthy 
of  his  genius.  But  the  odds  against  him  were  too  tremen- 
dous. The  saddest  phase  of  his  situation  was  that  he  was 
not  seconded.  The  people,  the  generals,  the  legislative 
bodies,  everybody  not  under  his  personal  influence  seemed 
paralyzed.  Augereau,  who  was  at  Lyons,  did  absolutely 
nothing,  and  the  following  letter  to  him  shows  with  what 
energy  and  indignation  Napoleon  tried  to  arouse  his  stupe- 
fied followers. 

"  NoGENT,  2ist  February,  1814. 

"...  What  !  six  hours  after  having  received  the  first  troops  com- 
ing from  Spain  you  were  not  in  the  field  !  Six  hours'  repose  was  suffi- 
cient. I  won  the  action  of  Nangis  with  a  brigade  of  dragoons  coming 
from  Spain,  which,  since  it  left  Bayonne.  had  not  unbridled  its  horses. 
The  six  battalions  of  the  division  of  Nismes  want  clothes,  equipment, 
and  drilling,  say  you.  What  poor  reasons  you  give  me  there,  Augereau  ! 
I  have  destroyed  eighty  thousand  enemies  with  conscripts  having 
nothing  but  knapsacks !  The  National  Guards,  say  you,  are  pitiable. 
I  have  four  thousand  here,  in  round  hats,  without  knapsacks,  in  wooden 
shoes,  but  with  good  muskets,  and  I  get  a  great  deal  out  of  them. 
There  is  no  money,  you  continue;  and  where  do  you  hope  to  draw 
money  from?  You  want  wagons;  take  them  wherever  you  can.  You 
have  no  magazines ;  this  is  too  ridiculous.  I  order  you,  twelve  hours  after 
the  reception  of  this  letter,  to  take  the  field.  If  you  are  still  Augereau 
of  Castiglione.  keep  the  command;  but  if  your  sixty  years  weigh  upon 
you,  hand  over  the  command  to  your  senior  general.  The  country 
is  in  danger,  and  can  be  saved  by  boldness  and  good  will  alone.     . 

"  Napoleon." 

The  terror  and  apathy  of  Paris  exasperated  him  beyond 
measure.  To  his  great  disgust,  the  court  and  some  of  the 
counsellors  had  taken  to  public  prayers  for  his  safety.     "  I 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1813— CAMPAIGN  OF  1814     261 

see  that  instead  of  sustaining  the  empress,"  he  wrote  Cam- 
baceres,  '*  you  discourage  her.  Why  do  you  lose  your  head 
hke  that  ?  What  are  these  misereres  and  these  prayers  forty 
hours  long  at  the  chapel ?  Have  people  in  Paris  gone  mad?  " 
The  most  serious  concern  of  Napoleon  in  this  campaign 
was  that  the  empress  and  the  King  of  Rome  should  not  be 
captured.  He  realized  that  the  allies  might  reach  Paris  at 
any  time,  and  repeatedly  he  instructed  Joseph,  who  had  been 
appointed  lieutenant-general  in  his  absence,  what  to  do  if  the 
city  was  threatened. 

"  Never  allow   the  empress  or  the   King  of   Rome  to   fall   into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  would 

rather  see  my  son  slain  than  brought  up  at  Vienna  as  an  Austrian 
prince ;  and  I  have  a  sufficiently  good  opinion  of  the  empress  to  feel 
persuaded  that  she  thinks  in  the  same  way.  as  far  as  it  is  possible 
for  a  woman  and  a  mother  to  do  so.  I  never  saw  Andromaque 
represented  without  pitying  Astyanax  surviving  his  family,  and  with- 
out regarding  it  as  a  piece  of  good  fortune  that  he  did  not  survive 
his  father." 

Throughout  the  two  months  there  were  negotiations  for 
peace.  They  varied  according  to  the  success  or  failure  of 
the  emperor  or  the  allies.  Napoleon  had  reached  a  point 
where  he  would  gladly  have  accepted  the  terms  offered  at  the 
close  of  18 1 3.  But  those  were  withdrawn.  France  must 
come  down  to  her  limits  in  1789.  **  What!  "  cried  Napo- 
leon, "  leave  France  smaller  than  I  found  her?     Never." 

The  frightful  combination  of  forces  closed  about  him 
steadily,  with  the  deadly  precision  of  the  chamber  of  torture, 
whose  adjustable  walls  imperceptibly,  but  surely,  draw  to- 
gether, day  by  day,  until  the  victim  is  crushed.  On  the  30th 
of  March  Paris  capitulated.  The  day  before,  the  Regent 
Marie  Louise  with  the  King  of  Rome  and  her  suite  had  left 
the  city  for  Blois.  The  allied  sovereigns  entered  Paris  on 
the  1st  of  April.  As  they  passed  through  the  streets,  they 
saw  multiplying,  as  they  advanced,  the  white  cockades  which 


the  grandcs  dames  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  had  been 
making  in  anticipation  of  the  entrance  of  the  foreigner,  and 
the  only  cries  which  greeted  them  as  they  passed  up  the 
boulevards  were,  "  Long  live  the  Bourbons!  Long  live  the 
sovereigns!     Long  live  the  Emperor  Alexander/' 

The  allies  were  in  Paris,  but  Napoleon  was  not  crushed. 
Encamped  at  Fontainebleau,  his  army  about  him,  the  sol- 
diers everywhere  faithful  to  him,  he  had  still  a  large  chance 
of  victory,  and  the  allies  looked  with  uneasiness  to  see  what 
move  he  would  make.  It  was  due  largely  to  the  wit  of 
Talleyrand  that  the  standing  ground  which  remained  to  the 
emperor  was  undermined.  That  wily  diplomat,  whose  place 
it  was  to  have  gone  with  the  empress  to  Blois,  had  succeeded 
in  getting  himself  shut  into  Paris,  and,  on  the  entry  of  the 
allies,  had  joined  Alexander,  whom  he  had  persuaded  to  an- 
nounce that  the  allied  powers  would  not  treat  with  Napoleon 
nor  with  any  member  of  his  family.  This  was  eliminating 
the  most  difficult  factor  from  the  problem.  By  his  fine  tact 
Talleyrand  brought  over  the  legislative  bodies  to  this  view. 

From  the  populace  Alexander  and  Talleyrand  feared  noth- 
ing ;  it  was  too  exhausted  to  ask  anything  but  peace.  Their 
most  serious  difficulty  was  the  army.  All  over  the  country 
the  cry  of  the  common  soldiers  was,  "  Let  us  go  to  the  em- 
peror.'' *'  The  army,''  declared  Alexander,  **  is  always  the 
army;  as  long  as  it  is  not  with  tou,  gentlemen,  you  can  boast 
of  nothing.  The  army  represents  the  French  nation ;  if  it  is 
not  won  over,  what  can  you  accomplish  that  will  endure?  " 

Every  influence  of  persuasion,  of  bribery,  of  intimidation, 
was  used  with  the  soldiers  and  generals.  They  were  toJd  in 
phrases  which  could  not  but  flatter  them :  **  You  are  the 
most  noble  of  the  children  of  the  country,  and  you  cannot 
belong  to  the  man  who  has  laid  it  waste.  .  .  .  You  are  no 
longer  the  soldiers  of  Napoleon ;  the  Senate  and  all  France 
release  you  from  your  oaths." 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1813— CAMPAIGN  OF  1814     263 

The  older  officers  on  Napoleon's  staff  at  Fontainebleau 
were  unsettled  bv  adroit  communications  sent  from  Paris. 
They  were  made  to  believe  that  they  were  fighting  against 
the  will  of  the  nation  and  of  their  comrades.  When  this  dis- 
affection had  become  serious,  one  of  Napoleon's  oldest  and 
most  trusted  associates,  Marmont,  suddenly  deserted.  He 
led  the  vanguard  of  the  army.  This  treachery  took  away 
the  last  hope  of  the  imperial  cause,  and  on  April  11,  1814, 
Napoleon  signed  the  act  of  abdication  at  Fontainebleau.  The 
act  read : 

"The  allied  powers  having  proclaimed  that  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  is  the  only  obstacle  to  the  reestablishment  of  peace  in  Europe, 
the  Emperor  Napoleon,  faithful  to  his  oath,  declares  that  he  renounces, 
for  himself  and  his  heirs,  the  thrones  of  France  and  Italy,  and  that 
there  is  no  personal  sacrifice,  even  that  of  his  life,  which  he  is  not  ready 
to  make  in  the  interest  of  France." 

For  only  a  moment  did  the  gigantic  will  waver  under  the 
shock  of  defeat,  of  treachery,  and  of  abandonment.  Uncer- 
tain of  the  fate  of  his  wife  and  child,  himself  and  his  family 
denounced  by  the  allies,  his  army  scattered,  he  braved  every- 
thing until  Marmont  deserted  him,  and  he  saw  one  after 
another  of  his  trusted  officers  join  his  enemies ;  then  for  a 
moment  he  gave  up  the  fight  and  tried  to  end  his  life.  The 
poison  he  took  had  lost  its  full  force,  and  he  recovered  from 
its  effects.  Even  death  would  have  none  of  him,  he  groaned. 

But  this  discouragement  was  brief.  No  sooner  was  it  de- 
cided that  his  future  home  should  be  the  island  of  Elba,  and 
that  its  affairs  should  be  under  his  control,  than  he  began  to 
prepare  for  the  journey  to  his  little  kingdom  with  the  same 
energy  and  zest  which  had  characterized  him  as  emperor. 
On  the  20th  of  April  he  left  the  palace  *of  Fontainebleau.    ' 

Prin^i),  iflcr  Dclirocbc,   1845. 





WEEK  after  bidding  his  Guard  farewell,  Napoleon 
sent  from  Frejus  his  first  address  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Elba : 

**  Circumstances  having  induced  me  to  renounce  the  throne  of 
France,  sacrificing  my  rights  to  the  interests  of  the  country,  I  reserved 
for  myself  the  sovereignty  of  the  island  of  Elba,  which  has  met  with 
the  consent  of  all  the  powers.  I  therefore  send  you  General  Drouot. 
so  that  you  may  hand  over  to  him  the  said  island,  with  the  military 
stores  and  provisions,  and  the  property  which  belongs  to  my  imperial 
domain.  Be  good  enough  to  make  known  this  new  state  of  affairs  to  the 
inhabitants,  and  the  choice  which  I  have  made  of  their  island  for  my 
sojourn  in  consideration  of  the  mildness  of  their  manners  and  the  ex- 
cellence of  their  climate.     I  shall   take  the  greatest  interest  in  their 


"  Napoleon." 

The  Elbans  received  their  new  ruler  with  all  the  pomp 
which  their  means  and  experience  permitted.  The  entire 
population  celebrated  his  arrival  as  a  fete.  The  new  flag 
which  the  emperor  had  chosen — white  ground  with  red  bar 
and  three  yellow  bees — was  unfurled,  and  saluted  by  the 
forts  of  the  nation  and  by  the  foreign  vessels  in  port.  The 
keys  of  the  chief  town  of  the  island  were  presented  to  him, 
a  Te  Deum  was  sung.  If  these  honors  seemed  poor 
and  contemptible  to  Napoleon  in  comparison  with  the  splen- 
dor of  the  fetes  to  which  he  had  become  accustomed,  he  gave 
no  sign,  and  played  his  part  with  the  same  seriousness  as  he 
had  when  he  received  his  crown. 



His  life  at  Elba  was  immediately  arranged  methodically, 
and  he  worked  as  hard  and  seemingly  with  as  much  interest 
as  he  had  at  Paris.  The  affairs  of  his  new  state  were  his 
chief  concern,  and  he  set  about  at  once  to  familiarize  himself 
with  all  their  details.  He  travelled  over  the  island  in  all 
directions,  to  acquaint  himself  with  its  resources  and  needs. 
At  one  time  he  made  the  circuit  of  his  domain,  entering  every 
port,  and  examining  its  condition  and  fortifications.  Every- 
where that  he  went  he  planned  and  began  works  which  he 
pushed  with  energy.  Fine  roads  were  laid  out ;  rocks  were 
levelled;  a  palace  and  barracks  were  begun.  From  his  ar- 
rival his  influence  was  beneficial.  There  was  a  new  atmos- 
phere at  Elba,  the  islanders  said. 

The  budget  at  Elba  was  administered  as  rigidly  as  that  of 
France  had  been,  and  the  little  army  was  drilled  with  as 
great  care  as  the  Guards  themselves.  After  the  daily  review 
of  his  troops,  he  rode  on  horseback,  and  this  promenade  be- 
came a  species  of  reception,  the  islanders  w^ho  wanted  to  con- 
sult him  stopping  him  on  his  route.  It  is  said  that  he  in- 
variably listened  to  their  appeals. 

Elba  was  enlivened  constantly  during  Napoleon's  resi- 
dence by  tourists  who  went  out  of  their  way  to  see  him. 
The  majority  of  these  curious  persons  were  Englishmen; 
with  many  of  them  he  talked  freely,  receiving  them  at  his 
house,  and  letting  them  carry  off  bits  of  stone  or  of  brick 
from  the  premises  as  souvenirs. 

His  stay  was  made  more  tolerable  by  the  arrival  of 
Madame  mdrc  and  of  the  Princess  Pauline  and  the  coming 
of  twenty-six  members  of  the  National  Guard  who  had 
crossed  France  to  join  him.  But  his  great  desire  that  Marie 
Louise  and  the  King  of  Rome  should  come  to  him  was 
never  gratified.  It  is  told  by  one  of  his  companions  on  the 
island,  that  he  kept  carefully  throughout  his  stay  a  stock 
of  fireworks  which  had  fallen  into  his  possession,  planning 


to  use  them  when  his  wife  and  boy  should  arrive,  but,  sadly 
enough,  he  never  had  an  occasion  to  celebrate  that  event. 

While  to  all  appearances  engrossed  with  the  little  affairs 
of  Elba,  Napoleon  was,  in  fact,  planning  the  most  dramatic 
act  of  his  life.  On  the  26th  of  February,  181 5,  the  guard 
received  an  order  to  leave  the  island.  With  a  force  of  eleven 
hundred  men,  the  emperor  passed  the  foreign  ships  guard- 
ing Elba,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  ist  of  March  landed 
at  Cannes  on  the  Gulf  of  Juan.  At  eleven  o'clock  that 
night  he  started  towards  Paris.  He  was  trusting  himself 
to  the  people  and  the  army.  If  there  never  was  an  example 
of  buch  audacious  confidence,  certainly  there  never  was 
such  a  response.  The  people  of  the  South  received  him 
joyfully,  offering  to  sound  the  tocsin  and  follow  him  en 
masse.  But  Napoleon  refused;  it  was  the  soldiers  upon 
whom  he  called. 

"We  have  not  been  conquered  [he  told  the  army].  Come  and 
range  yourselves  under  the  standard  of  your  chief;  his  existence  de- 
pends upon  you;  his  interests,  his  honor,  and  his  glory  are  yours. 
Victory  will  march  at  double-quick  time.  The  eagle  with  the  national 
colors  will  fly  from  steeple  to  steeple  to  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame. 
Then  you  will  be  able  to  show  your  scars  with  honor;  then  you  will  be 
able  to  boast  of  what  you  have  done;  you  will  be  the  liberators  of  the 

At  Grenoble  there  was  a  show  of  resistance.  Napoleon 
went  directly  to  the  soldiers,  followed  by  his  guard. 

"  Here  I  am ;  you  know  me.  If  there  is  a  soldier  among 
you  who  wishes  to  kill  his  emperor,  let  him  do  it." 

"Long  live  the  emperor!"  was  the  answer;  and  in  a 
twinkle  six  thousand  men  had  torn  off  their  white  cockades 
and  replaced  them  by  old  soiled  tricolors.  They  drew  them 
from  the  inside  of  their  caps,  where  they  had  been  con- 
cealing them  since  the  exile  of  their  hero.  "  It  is  the  same 
that  I  wore  at  Austerlitz,"  said  one  as  be  passed  the  em- 
peror.    "  This,"  said  another,  **  I  had  at  Marengo." 


From  Grenoble  the  emperor  marched  to  Lyons,  where 
the  soldiers  and  officers  went  over  to  him  in  regiments. 
The  royalist  leaders  who  had  deigned  to  go  to  Lyons  to 
exhort  the  army  found  themselves  ignored;  and  Ney,  who 
had  been  ordered  from  Besanqon  to  stop  the  emperor's  ad- 
vance, and  who  started  out  promising  to  "  bring  back  Na- 
poleon in  an  iron  cage,"  surrendered  his  entire  division. 
It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  force  of  popular  opinion,  he 
said.  From  Lyons  the  emperor,  at  the  head  of  what  was 
now  the  French  army,  passed  by  Dijon,  Autun,  Avallon,  and 
Auxerre,  to  Fontainebleau,  which  he  reached  on  March 
19th.     The  same  day  Louis  XVIII.  fled  from  Paris. 

The  change  of  sentiment  in  these  few  days  was  well 
illustrated  in  a  French  paper  which,  after  Napoleon's  re- 
turn, published  the  following  calendar  gathered  from  the 
royalist  press. 

February  25. — "  The  exterminator  has  signed  a  treaty 
offensive  and  defensive.     It  is  not  known  with  whom." 

February  26. — **  The  Corsican  has  left  the  island  of 

March  i. — "  Bonaparte  has  debarked  at  Cannes  with 
eleven  hundred  men." 

March  7. — "  General  Bonaparte  has  taken  possession  of 

March   10. — **  Ara/)(7/^(7«  has  entered  Lyons." 

March  19. — '"  The  emperor  reached  Fontainebleau  to- 

March  19. —  ''His  Imperial  Majesty  is  expected  at  the 
Tuileries  to-morrow,  the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  the 
King  of  Rome." 


Two  days  before  the  flight  of  the  Bourbons,  the  following 
notice  appeared  on  the  door  of  the  Tuileries : 

''  The  emperor  begs  the  king  to  send  him  no  more  sol- 
diers; he  has  enough," 

**  What  was  the  happiest  period  of  your  life  as  em- 
peror? "  O'Meara  asked  Napoleon  once  at  St.  Helena. 

'*  The  march  from  Cannes  to  Paris,"  he  replied  im- 

His  happiness  was  short-lived.  The  overpowering  en- 
thusiasm which  had  made  that  march  possible  could  not 
endure.  The  bewildered  factions  which  had  been  silenced 
or  driven  out  by  Napoleon's  reappearance  recovered  from 
their  stupor.  The  royalists,  exasperated  by  their  own  flight, 
reorganized.  Strong  opposition  developed  among  the  lib- 
erals. It  was  only  a  short  time  before  a  reaction  followed 
the  delirium  which  Napoleon's  return  had  caused  in  the 
nation.  Disaffection,  coldness,  and  plots  succeeded.  In 
face  of  this  revulsion  of  feeling,  the  emperor  himself  under- 
went a  change.  The  buoyant  courage,  the  amazing  audacity 
which  had  induced  him  to  return  from  Elba,  seemed  to  leave 
him.  He  became  sad  and  preoccupied.  No  doubt  much 
of  this  sadness  was  due  to  the  refusal  of  Austria  to  restore 
his  wife  and  child,  and  to  the  bitter  knowledge  that  Marie 
Louise  had  succumbed  to  foreign  influences  and  had  prom- 
ised never  again  to  see  her  husband. 

If  the  allies  had  allowed  the  French  to  manage  their 
affairs  in  their  own  way,  it  is  probable  that  Napoleon  would 
have  mastered  the  situation,  difficult  as  it  was.  But  this 
they  did  not  do.  In  spite  of  his  promise  to  observe  the 
treaties  made  after  his  abdication,  to  accept  the  boundaries 
fixed,  to  abide  by  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  the  coalition 
treated  him  with  scorn,  affecting  to  mistrust  him.  He  was 
the  disturber  of  the  peace  of  the  world,  a  public  enemy; 

Painlcd  and 

•.d  by  Jai 

ne.  Ward. 

K.  A. 

f  ih 

c  Kuyal  Vt 

liled  Se 

under  the  picl 




II  whiib 

of   Marengo.    . 


e    ii 

iiff'box,  ™1 

Ikf.  in 




l-alacc.     In  tbe  Ii. 



«i  by  bim  . 

It  Slan.1 

Ruiaian  cimpa 


at  Waterk 

•  Marenfl»  w» 


ert  ixi 

:  near  hip  i 

the    hollow    roi 



of    (he    French    | 

I  ii  tbe  legend:  '  Hoof  of  Marength 

ound  Ihe  hoof'  tbe  I'cfrend  continues*: 
rioo.  when  hit  masier  vat  on  him  in 
waition.      He    bad    been    frequentlf 


he  must  be  put  l)eyond  the  pale  of  society,  and  they  took  up 
arms,  not  against  France,  but  against  Napoleon.  France,  as 
it  appeared,  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  choose  her  own  rulers. 

The  position  in  which  Napoleon  found  himself  on  the 
declaration  of  war  was  of  exceeding  difficulty,  but  he  mas- 
tered the  opposition  with  all  his  old  genius  and  resources. 
Three  months  after  the  landing  at  Cannes  he  had  an  army 
of  two  hundred  thousand  men  ready  to  march.  He  led  it 
against  at  least  five  hundred  thousand  men. 

On  June  15th,  Napoleon's  army  met  a  portion  of  the 
enemy  in  Belgium,  near  Brussels,  and  on  July  i6th,  17th, 
and  1 8th  were  fought  the  battles  of  Ligny,  Quatre  Bras, 
and  Waterloo,  in  the  last  of  which  he  was  completely  de- 
feated. The  limits  and  nature  of  this  sketch  do  not  permit 
a  description  of  the  engagement  at  Waterloo.  The  litera- 
ture on  the  subject  is  perhaps  richer  than  that  on  any  other 
subject  in  military  science.  Thousands  of  books  discuss  the 
battle,  and  each  succeeding  generation  takes  it  up  as  if 
nothing  had  been  written  on  it.  But  while  Waterloo  cannot 
be  discussed  here,  it  is  not  out  of  place  to  notice  that  among 
the  reasons  for  its  loss  are  certain  ones  which  interest  us 
because  they  are  personal  to  Napoleon.  He  whose  great 
rule  in  wars  was,  *'  Time  is  everything,"  lost  time  at  Water- 
loo. He  who  had  looked  after  everything  which  he  wanted 
well  done,  neglected  to  assure  himself  of  such  an  important 
matter  as  the  exact  position  of  his  enemy.  He  who  once 
had  been  able  to  go  a  week  without  sleep,  was  ill.  Again, 
if  one  will  compare  carefully  the  Bonaparte  of  Guerin  (page 
108)  with  the  Napoleon  of  Girodet  (page  240),  he  will  un- 
derstand, at  least  partially,  why  the  battle  of  Waterloo  was 

The  defeat  was  complete ;  and  when  the  emperor  saw  it, 
he  threw  himself  into  the  battle  in  search  of  death.  As 
eagerly  as  he  had  sought  victory  at  Areola,  Marengo,  Aus- 

Thii  original  icrics  of  hali 
pencil  of  Sicubcn.  one  of  11 
boliui  the  dght  principal  epoch) 

I.  Vendfmlaire. 

4.  Auslerlit 

».  Coniulau. 

5.  Wagram 

3.  Empire. 


terlitz,  he  sought  death  at  Waterloo.  "  I  ought  to  have 
died  at  Waterloo,"  he  said  afterwards;  "but  the  misfor- 
tune is  that  when  a  man  seeks  death  most  he  cannot  find  it. 
Men  were  killed  around  me,  before,  behind — everywhere. 
But  there  was  no  bullet  for  me." 

He  returned  immediately  to  Paris.  There  was  still  force 
for  resistance  in  France.  There  were  many  to  urge  him  to 
return  to  the  struggle,  but  such  was  the  condition  of  public 
sentiment  that  he  refused.  The  country  was  divided  in  its 
allegiance  to  him;  the  legislative  body  was  frightened  and 
f|uarrelling ;  Talleyrand  and  Fouche  were  plotting.  Be- 
sides, the  allies  proclaimed  to  the  nation  that  it  was  against 
Napoleon  alone  that  they  waged  war.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances Napoleon  felt  that  loyalty  to  the  best  interest  of 
France  required  his  abdication ;  and  he  signed  the  act  anew, 
proclaiming  his  son  emperor  under  the  title  of  Napoleon  IL 

Leaving  Paris,  the  fallen  emperor  went  to  Malmaison, 
where  Josephine  had  died  only  thirteen  months  before. 
A  few  friends  joined  him — Queen  Hortense,  the  Due  de 
Rovigo,  Bertrand,  Las  Cases,  and  Meneval.  He  remained 
there  only  a  few  days.  The  allies  were  approaching  Paris, 
and  the  environs  were  in  danger.  Napoleon  offered  his 
services  to  the  provisional  government,  which  had  taken  his 
place,  as  leader  in  the  campaign  against  the  invader,  prom- 
ising to  retire  as  soon  as  the  enemy  was  repulsed,  but  he  was 
refused.  The  government  feared  him,  in  fact,  more  than  it 
did  the  allies,  and  urged  him  to  leave  France  as  quickly  as 
possible.  In  his  disaster  he  turned  to  America  as  a  refuge, 
and  gave  his  family  rendezvous  there. 

Various  plans  were  suggested  for  getting  to  the  United 
States.  Among  the  offers  of  aid  to  carry  out  his  desire 
which  were  made  to  Napoleon,  Las  Cases  speaks  of  one 
coming  from  an  American  in  Paris,  who  wrote : 

"  While  you  were  at  the  head  of  a  nation  you  could  perform  any 


miracle,  you  might  conceive  any  hopes;  but  now  you  can  do  nothing 
more  in  Europe.  Fly  to  the  United  States  !  I  know  the  hearts  of  ihe 
leading  men  and  the  sentiments  of  the  people  of  America.  You 
will  there  find  a  second  country  and  every  source  of  consolation.'" 

Mr.  S.  V.  S.  Wilder,  an  American  shipping  merchant 
who  lived  in  France  during  the  time  of  Napoleon's  power, 
and  who  had  been  much  impressed  by  the  changes  brought 
about  in  society  and  politics  under  his  rule,  offered  to  help 
him  to  escape.  He  proposed  that  the  emperor  disguise  him- 
self as  a  valet  for  whom  he  had  a  passport.  On  board  the 
ship  the  emperor  was  to  conceal  himself  in  a  hogshead 
until  the  danger-line  was  crossed.  This  hogshead  was  to 
have  a  false  compartment  in  it.  From  the  end  in  view, 
water  was  to  drip  incessantly.  Mr.  Wilder  proposed  to 
take  Napoleon  to  his  own  home  in  Bolton,  Massachusetts, 
when  thev  arrived  in  America.  It  is  said  that  the  em- 
peror  seriously  considered  this  scheme,  but  finally  declined, 
because  he  would  leave  his  friends  behind  him,  and  for 
them  Mr.  Wilder  could  not  possibly  provide.  Napoleon 
explained  one  day  to  Las  Cases  at  St.  Helena  what  he 
intended  to  do  if  he  had  reached  America.  He  would  have 
collected  all  his  relatives  around  him,  and  thus  would  have 
formed  the  nucleus  of  a  national  union,  a  second  France. 
Such  were  the  sums  of  money  he  had  given  them  that  he 
thought  they  might  have  realized  at  least  forty  millions  of 
francs.  Before  the  conclusion  of  a  year,  the  events  of  Eu- 
rope would  have  drawn  to  him  a  hundred  millions  of  francs 
and  sixty  thousand  individuals,  most  of  them  possessing 
wealth,  talent,  and  information. 

"  America  [he  said]  was,  in  all  respects,  our  proper  asylum.  It  is 
an  immense  continent,  possessing  the  advantage  of  a  peculiar  system 
of  freedom.  If  a  man  is  troubled  with  melancholy,  he  may  get  into 
a  coach  and  drive  a  thousand  leagues,  enjoying  all  the  way  the  pleas- 
ures of  a  common  traveller.  In  America  you  may  be  on  a  footing  of 
equality    with    everyone;    you    may.    if    you    please,    mingle    with    the 


crowd  without  inconvenience,  retaining  your  own  manners,  your  own 
language,  your  own  religion." 

On  June  29th,  a  week  after  his  return  to  Paris  from 
Waterloo,  Napoleon  left  Malmaison  for  Rochefort,  hoping 
to  reach  a  vessel  which  w^ould  carry  him  to  the  United 
States;  but  the  coast  was  so  guarded  by  the  English  that 
there  was  no  escape. 


napoleon's    surrender    to    ENGLAND SENT    TO    ST. 


WHEN  it  became  evident  that  it  was  impossible  to 
escape  to  the  United  States,  Napoleon  consid- 
ered two  courses — to  call  upon  the  country  and 
renew  the  conflict,  or  seek  an  asylum  in  England.  The 
former  was  not  only  to  perpetuate  the  foreign  war,  it  was 
to  plunge  France  into  civil  war;  for  a  large  part  of  the 
countrv  had  come  to  the  conclusion  of  the  allies — that  as 
long  as  Napoleon  was  at  large,  peace  was  impossible. 
Rather  than  involve  France  in  such  a  disaster,  the  emperor 
resolved  at  last  to  give  himself  up  to  the  English,  and  sent 
the  following  note  to  the  regent : 

'*  Royal  Highness:  Exposed  to  the  factions  which  divide  my 
country  and  to  the  hostility  of  the  greatest  powers  of  Europe,  I  have 
closed  my  political  career.  I  have  come,  like  Themistocles  to  seek 
the  hospitality  of  the  British  nation.  I  place  myself  under  the  pro- 
tection of  their  laws,  which  I  claim  from  your  Royal  Highness  as  the 
most    powerful,    the    most    constant,    and    the    most    generous    of    my 


"  Napoleon.*' 

On  the  15th  of  July  he  embarked  on  the  English  ship, 
the  **  Bellerophon,''  and  a  week  later  he  was  in  Plymouth. 

Napoleon's  surrender  to  the  English  was  made,  as  he 
says,  with  full  confidence  in  their  hospitality.  Certainly 
hospitality  was  the  last  thing  to  expect  of  England  under 
the  circumstances,  and  there  was  something  theatrical  in 
the  demand  for  it.     The  "  Bellerophon  '*  was  no  sooner  in 



the  harbor  of  Plymouth  than  it  became  evident  that  he  was 
regarded  not  as  a  guest,  but  as  a  prisoner.  Armed  vessels 
surrounded  the  ship  he  was  on;  extraordinary  messages 
were  hurried  to  and  fro;  sinister  rumors  ran  among  the 
crew.  The  Tower  of  London,  a  desert  isle,  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  were  talked  of  as  the  hospitality  England  was  pre- 

But  if  there  was  something  theatrical,  even  humorous, 
in  the  idea  of  expecting  a  friendly  welcome  from  England, 
there  was  every  reason  to  suppose  that  she  would  receive 
him  with  dignity  and  consideration.  Napoleon  had  been  an 
enemy  worthy  of  English  metal.  He  had  been  defeated 
only  after  years  of  struggle.  Now  that  he  was  at  her  feet, 
her  own  self-respect  demanded  that  she  treat  him  as  became 
his  genius  and  his  position.  To  leave  him  at  large  was, 
of  course,  out  of  the  question ;  but  surely  he  could  have  been 
made  a  royal  prisoner  and  been  made  to  feel  that  if  he  was 
detained  it  was  because  of  his  might. 

The  British  government  no  sooner  realized  that  it  had 
its  hands  on  Napoleon  than  it  was  seized  with  a  species  of 
panic.  All  sense  of  dignity,  all  notions  of  what  was  due 
a  foe  who  surrendered,  were  drowned  in  hysterical  resent- 
ment. The  English  people  as  a  whole  did  not  share  the 
government's  terror.  The  general  feeling  seems  to  have 
l)een  similar  to  that  which  Charles  Lamb  expressed  to 
Southey :  "  After  all,  Bonaparte  is  a  fine  fellow,  as  my  bar- 
ber says,  and  I  should  not  mind  standing  bare-headed  at 
his  table  to  do  him  service  in  his  fall.  They  should  have 
given  him  Hampton  Court  or  Kensington,  with  a  tether 
extending  forty  miles  round  London." 

But  the  government  could  see  nothing  but  danger  in 
keeping  such  a  force  as  Napoleon  within  its  limits.  It  evi- 
dently took  Lamb's  whimsical  suggestion,  that  if  Napo- 
leon were  at  Hampton  the  people  might  some  day  eject  the 


Brunswick  in  his  favor,  in  profound  seriousness.  On  July 
30th  it  sent  a  communication  to  General  Bonaparte — the 
English  henceforth  refused  him  the  title  of  emperor,  though 
permitting  him  that  of  general,  not  reflecting,  probably, 
that  if  one  was  spurious  the  other  was,  since  both  had  been 
conferred  by  the  same  authority — notifying  him  that  as  it 
was  necessary  that  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  disturb  the 
repose  of  England  any  longer,  the  British  government  had 
chosen  the  island  of  St.  Helena  as  his  future  residence,  and 
that  three  persons  with  a  surgeon  would  be  allowed  to  ac- 
company him.  A  week  later  he  was  transferred  from  the 
**  Bellerophon  ''  to  the  ''  Northumberland,*'  and  was  en 
route  for  St.  Helena,  where  he  arrived  in  October,  181 5. 

The  manner  in  which  the  British  carried  out  their  de- 
cision was  irritating  and  unworthy.  They  seemed  to  feel 
that  guarding  a  prisoner  meant  humiliating  him,  and  of- 
fensive and  unnecessary  restrictions  were  made  which 
wounded  and  enraged  Napoleon. 

The  effect  of  this  treatment  on  his  character  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  studies  in  connection  with  the  man,  and,  on 
the  whole,  it  leaves  one  with  increased  respect  and  admi- 
ration for  him.  He  received  the  announcement  of  his  exile 
in  indignation.  He  was  not  a  prisoner,  he  was  the  guest 
of  England,  he  said.  It  was  an  outrage  against  the  laws 
of  hospitality  to  send  him  into  exile,  and  he  would  never 
submit  voluntarily.  When  he  became  convinced  that  the 
British  were  inflexible  in  their  decision,  he  thought  of 
suicide,  and  even  discussed  it  with  Las  Cases.  It  was  the 
most  convenient  solution  of  his  dilemma.  It  would  injure 
no  one,  and  his  friends  would  not  be  forced  then  to  leave 
their  families.  It  was  easier  because  he  had  no  scruples 
which  opposed  it.  The  idea  was  finally  given  up.  A  man 
ought  to  live  out  his  destiny,  he  said,  and  he  decided  that 
his  should  be  fulfilled. 


The  most  serious  concern  Napoleon  felt  in  facing  his 
new  life  was  that  he  would  have  no  occupation.  He  saw 
at  once  that  St.  Helena  would  not  be  an  Elba.  But  he  reso- 
lutely made  occupations.  He  sought  conversation,  studied 
English,  played  games,  began  to  dictate  his  memoirs.  It 
is  to  this  admirable  determination  to  find  something  to  do, 
that  we  owe  his  clear,  logical  commentaries,  his  essays  on 
Caesar,  Turenne,  and  Frederick,  his  sketch  of  the  Republic, 
and  the  vast  amount  of  information  in  the  journals  of 
his  devoted  comrades,  O'Meara,  Las  Cases,  Montholon. 

But  no  amount  of  forced  occupation  could  hide  the  deso- 
lation of  his  position.  The  island  of  St.  Helena  is  a  mass  of 
jagged,  gloomy  rocks ;  the  nearest  land  is  six  hundred  miles 
away.  Isolated  and  inaccessible  as  it  is,  the  English  placed 
Napoleon  in  its  most  sombre  and  remote  part — a  place 
called  Longwood,  at  the  summit  of  a  mountain,  and  to  the 
windward.  The  houses  at  Longwood  were  damp  and  un- 
healthv.  There  was  no  shade.  Water  had  to  be  carried 
some  three  miles. 

The  governor,  Sir  Hudson  Lowe,  was  a  tactless  man, 
with  a  propensity  for  bullying  those  whom  he  ruled.  He 
was  haunted  by  the  idea  that  Napoleon  was  trying  to 
escape,  and  he  adopted  a  policy  which  was  more  like  that 
of  a  jailer  than  of  an  officer.  In  his  first  interview  with 
the  emperor  he  so  antagonized  him  that  Napoleon  soon  re- 
fused  to  see  him.  Napoleon's  antipathy  was  almost  super- 
stitious. **  I  never  saw  such  a  horrid  countenance,"  he  told 
O'Meara.  "  He  sat  on  a  chair  opposite  to  my  sofa,  and  on 
the  little  table  between  us  there  was  a  cup  of  coffee.  His 
physiognomy  made  such  an  unfavorable  impression  upon 
me  that  I  thought  his  evil  eye  had  poisoned  the  coffee,  and 
I  ordered  Marchand  to  throw  it  out  of  the  window.  I 
could  not  have  swallowed  it  for  the  world." 

Aggravated  by  Napoleon's  refusal  to  see  him,  Sir  Hudson 


Lowe  became  more  annoying  and  petty  in  his  regulations. 
All  free  communication  between  Longwood  and  the  in- 
habitants of  the  island  was  cut  off.  The  newspapers  sent 
Napoleon  were  mutilated;  certain  books  were  refused;  his 
letters  were  opened.  A  bust  of  his  son  brought  to  the  island 
by  a  sailor  was  withheld  for  weeks.  There  was  incessant 
haggling  over  the  expenses  of  his  establishment.  His 
friends  were  subjected  to  constant  annoyance.  All  news  of 
Marie  Louise  and  of  his  son  was  kept  from  him. 

It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  Napoleon  was  often 
peevish  and  obstinate  under  this  treatment,  or  that  fi"e- 
quently,  when  he  allowed  himself  to  discuss  the  governor's 
policy  with  the  members  of  his  suite,  his  temper  rose,  as 
Montholon  said,  **  to  thirty-six  degrees  of  fury.*'  His  sit- 
uation was  made  more  miserable  by  his  ill  health.  His 
promenades  were  so  guarded  by  sentinels  and  restricted  to 
such  limits  that  he  finally  refused  to  take  exercise,  and  after 
that  his  disease  made  rapid  marches. 

His  fretfulness,  his  unreasonable  deteirnination  to  house 
himself,  his  childish  resentment  at  Sir  Hudson  Lowe's  con- 
duct, have  led  to  the  idea  that  Napoleon  spent  his  time  at 
St.  Helena  in  fuming  and  complaining.  But  if  one  will  take 
into  consideration  the  work  that  the  fallen  emperor  did  in 
his  exile,  he  will  have  a  quite  different  impression  of  this 
period  of  his  life.  He  lived  at  St.  Helena  from  October, 
1815,  to  May,  1821.  In  this  pferiod  of  five  and  a  half  years  he 
wrote  or  dictated  enough  matter  to  fill  the  four  good-sized 
volumes  which  complete  the  bulky  correspondence  published 
by  the  order  of  Napoleon  III.,  and  he  furnished  the  great 
collection  of  conversations  embodied  in  the  memoirs  pub- 
lished by  his  companions. 

This  means  a  great  amount  of  thinking  and  planning; 
for  if  one  will  go  over  these  dictatwns  and  writings  to  see 


how  they  were  made,  he  will  find  that  they  are  not  slovenly 
in  arrangement  or  loose  in  style.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
concise,  logical,  and  frequently  vivid.  They  are  full  of 
errors,  it  is  true,  but  that  is  due  to  the  fact  that  Napoleon 
had  not  at  hand  any  official  documents  for  making  history. 
He  depended  almost  entirely  on  his  memory.  The  books 
and  maps  he  had,  he  used  diligently,  but  his  supply  was 
limited  and  unsatisfactory. 

It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  this  work  was  done 
under  great  physical  difficulties.  He  was  suffering  keenly 
much  of  the  time  after  he  reached  the  island.  Even  for  a 
well  man,  working  under  favorable  circumstances,  the  liter- 
ary output  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena  would  be  creditable. 
For  one  in  his  circumstances  it  was  extraordinary.  A  look 
at  it  is  the  best  possible  refutation  of  the  common  notion 
that  he  spent  his  time  at  St.  Helena  fuming  at  Sir  Hudson 
Lowe  and  "  stewing  himself  in  hot  water,"  to  use  the  ex- 
pression of  the  governor. 

Before  the  end  of  1820  it  was  certain  that  he  could  not 
live  long.  In  December  of  that  year  the  death  of  his  sister 
Eliza  was  announced  to  him.  **  You  see,  Eliza  has  just 
shown  me  the  way.  Death,  which  had  forgotten  my  family, 
has  begun  to  strike  it.  My  turn  cannot  be  far  off."  Nor 
was  it.    On  May  5,  1821,  he  died. 

His  preparations  for  death  were  methodical  and  com- 
plete. During  the  last  fortnight  of  April  all  his  strength 
was  spent  in  dictating  to  Montholon  his  last  wishes.  He 
even  dictated,  ten  days  before  the  end,  the  note  which  he 
wished  sent  to  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  to  announce  his  death. 
The  articles  he  had  in  his  possession  at  Long^ood  he  had 
wrapped  up  and  ticketed  with  the  names  of  the  persons 
to  whom  he  wished  to  leave  them.  His  will  remembered 
numbers  of  those  whom  he  had  loved  or  who  had  served 


him.  Even  the  Chinese  laborers  then  employed  about  the 
place  were  remembered.  "  Do  not  let  them  be  forgotten. 
Let  them  have  a  few  score  of  napoleons. 

The  will  included  a  final  word  on  certain  questions  on 
which  he  felt  posterity  ought  distinctly  to  understand  his 
position.  He  died,  he  said,  in  the  apostolical  Roman  re- 
ligion. He  declared  that  he  had  always  been  pleased  with 
Marie  Louise,  whom  he  besought  to  watch  over  his  son. 
To  this  son,  whose  name  recurs  repeatedly  in  the  will,  he 
gave  a  motto — All  for  the  French  people.  He  died  pre- 
maturely, he  said,  assassinated  by  the  English  oligarchy. 
The  unfortunate  results  of  the  invasion  of  France  he  at- 
tributed to  the  treason  of  Marmont,  Augereau,  Talley- 
rand, and  Lafayette.  He  defended  the  death  of  the  Due 
d'Enghien.  "  Under  similar  circumstances  I  should  act 
in  the  same  w-ay.'*  This  will  is  sufficient  evidence  that  he 
died  as  he  had  lived,  courageously  and  proudly,  and  in- 
spired by  a  profound  conviction  of  the  justice  of  his  own 
cause.    In  1822  the  French  courts  declared  the  will  void. 

They  buried  him  in  a  valley  beside  a  spring  he  loved, 
and  though  no  monument  but  a  willow  marked  the  spot, 
perhaps  no  other  grave  in  history  is  so  well  known.  Cer- 
tainly the  magnificent  mausoleum  which  marks  his  present 
resting  place  in  Paris  has  never  touched  the  imagination 
and  the  heart  as  did  the  humble  willow-shaded  mound  in 
St.  Helena. 

The  peace  of  the  world  was  insured.  Napoleon  was 
dead.  But  though  he  was  dead,  the  echo  of  his  deeds  was 
so  loud  in  the  ears  of  France  and  England  that  they  tried 
every  device  to  turn  it  into  discord  or  to  drown  it  by  an- 
other and  a  newer  sound.  The  ignoble  attempt  was  never 
entirely  successful,  and  the  day  will  come  w^hen  personal 
and  partisan  considerations  wmII  cease  to  influence  judg- 
ments on  this  mighty  man.     For  he  was  a  mighty  man. 



One  may  be  convinced  that  the  fundamental  principles  of 
his  life  were  despotic;  that  he  used  the  noble  ideas  of  per- 
sonal liberty,  of  equality,  and  of  fraternity,  as  a  tyrant; 
that  the  whole  tendency  of  his  civil  and  military  system  was 
to  concentrate  a  power  in  a  single  pair  of  hands,  never  to 
distribute  it  where  it  belonged,  among  the  people;  one  may 
feel  that  he  frequently  sacrificed  personal  dignity  to.  a 
theatrical  desire  to  impose  on  the  crowd  as  a  hero  of  classic 
proportions,  a  god  from  Olympus ;  one  may  groan  over  the 
blood  he  spilt.  But  he  cannot  refuse  to  acknowledge  that 
no  man  ever  comprehended  more  clearly  the  splendid  science 
of  war ;  he  cannot  fail  to  bow  to  the  genius  which  conceived 
and  executed  the  Italian  campaign,  which  fought  the  classic 
battles  of  Austerlitz,  Jena,  and  Wagram.  These  deeds  are 
great  epics.  They  move  in  noble,  measured  lines,  and  stir 
us  by  their  might  and  perfection.  It  is  only  a  genius  of  the 
most  magnificent  order  which  could  handle  men  and  ma- 
terials as  Napoleon  did. 

He  is  even  more  imposing  as  a  statesman.  When  one 
confronts  the  France  of  1799,  corrupt,  crushed,  hopeless, 
false  to  the  great  ideals  she  had  wasted  herself  for,  and 
watches  Napoleon  firmly  and  steadily  bring  order  into  this 
chaos,  give  the  country  work  and  bread,  build  up  her  broken 
walls  and  homes,  put  money  into  her  pocket  and  restore  her 
credit,  bind  up  her  wounds  and  call  back  her  scattered  chil- 
dren, set  her  again  to  painting  pictures  and  reading  books, 
to  smiling  and  singing,  he  has  a  Napoleon  greater  than  the 

Nor  were  these  civil  deeds  transient.  France  to-day  is 
largely  what  Napoleon  made  her,  and  the  most  liberal  in- 
stitutions of  continental  Europe  bear  his  impress.  It  is  only 
a  mind  of  noble  proportions  which  can  grasp  the  needs  of  a 
people,  and  a  hand  of  mighty  force  which  can  supply  them. 

But  he  was  greater  as  a  man  than  as  a  warrior  or  states- 


man ;  greater  in  that  rare  and  subtle  personal  quality  which 
made  men  love  him.  Men  went  down  on  their  knees  and 
wept  at  sight  of  him  when  he  came  home  from  Elba — rough 
men  whose  hearts  were  untrained,  and  who  loved  naturally 
and  spontaneously  the  thing  which  was  lovable.  It  was 
only  selfish,  warped,  abnormal  natures,  which  had  been  sti- 
fled by  etiquette  and  diplomacy  and  self-interest,  who  aban- 
doned him.  Where  nature  lived  in  a  heart,  Napoleon^s  sway 
was  absolute.  It  was  not  strange.  He  was  in  everything 
a  natural  man;  his  imagination,  his  will,  his  intellect,  his 
heart,  were  native,  untrained.  They  appealed  to  unworldly 
men  in  all  their  rude,  often  brutal  strength  and  sweetness. 
If  they  awed  them,  they  won  them. 

This  native  force  of  Napoleon  explains,  at  least  partially, 
his  hold  on  men ;  it  explains,  too,  the  contrasts  of  his  char- 
acter. Never  was  there  a  life  lived  so  full  of  lights  and 
shades,  of  majors  and  minors.  It  was  a  kaleidoscope,  chang- 
ing at  every  moment.  Beside  the  most  practical  and  com- 
mon-place qualities  are  the  most  idealistic.  No  man  ever 
did  more  drudgery,  ever  followed  details  more  slavishly; 
yet  who  ever  dared  so  divinely,  ever  played  such  hazardous 
games  of  chance?  No  man  ever  planned  more  for  his  fel- 
lows, yet  who  ever  broke  so  many  hearts?  No  man  ever 
made  practical  realities  of  so  many  of  liberty's  dreams,  yet 
it  was  by  despotism  that  he  gave  liberal  and  beneficent  laws. 
No  man  was  more  gentle,  none  more  cruel.  Never  was 
there  a  more  chivalrous  lover  until  he  was  disillusioned;  a 
more  affectionate  husband,  even  when  faith  had  left  him; 
yet  no  man  ever  trampled  more  rudely  on  womanly  delicacy 
and  reserve. 

He  was  valorous  as  a  god  in  danger,  loved  it,  played  with 
it ;  yet  he  would  turn  pale  at  a  broken  mirror,  cross  himself 
if  he  stumbled,  fancy  the  coflfee  poisoned  at  which  an  enemy 
had  looked. 


He  was  the  greatest  genius  of  his  time,  perhaps  of  all  time, 
yet  he  lacked  the  crown  of  greatness — that  high  wisdom 
born  of  reflection  and  introspection  which  knows  its  own 
powers  and  limitations,  and  never  abuses  them;  that  fine 
sense  of  proportion  which  holds  the  rights  of  others  in  the 
same  solemn  reverence  it  demands  for  its  own. 



THE  SEINE  IN    184O 

It  is  my  wtsh  that  my  ashes  may  repose  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine^  in  the  midst  of  the 
French  people^  whom  J  have  loved  so  tt>^//.— Testament  of  Napoleon,  2d  Clause. 

He  wants  not  this;  but  France  shall  feel  the  want 

Of  this  last  consolation,  thought  so  scant; 

Her  honor,  fame,  and  faith  demand  his  bones, 

To  rear  above  a  pyramid  of  thrones ; 

Or  carried  onward,  in  the  battle's  van. 

To  form,  like  Guesclin's  dust,  her  talisman. 

But  be  it  as  it  is.  the  time  may  come. 

His  name  shall  beat  the  alarm  like  Ziska's  drum. 

— Byron,  in  The  Age  of  Bronze. 

ON  May  12,  1840,  Louis  Philippe  being  king  of  the 
French  people,  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  was  busy 
with  a  discussion  on  sugar  tariffs.  It  had  been 
dragging  somewhat,  and  the  members  w^ere  showing  signs 
of  restlessness.  Suddenly  the  Count  de  Remusat,  then  Min- 
ister of  the  Interior,  appeared,  and  asked  a  hearing  for  a 
communication  from  the  government. 

**  Gentlemen/'  he  said,  *'  the  king  has  ordered  his  Royal 
Highness  Monseigneur  the  Prince  de  Joinville*  to  go  with 
his  frigate  to  the  island  of  St.  Helena,  there  to  collect  the 
remains  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon." 

A  tremor  ran  over  the  House.  The  announcement  was 
utterly  unexpected.  Napoleon  to  come  back!  The  body 
seemed  electrified,  and  the  voice  of  the  minister  was  drowned 
for  a  moment  in  applause.     When  he  went  on  it  was  to  say : 

•  The  Prince  of  Joinville  was  the  Third  son  of  Louis  Philippe. 



"  We  have  come  to  ask  for  an  appropriation  which  shall 
enable  us  to  receive  the  remains  in  a  fitting  manner,  and  to 
raise  an  enduring  tomb  to  Napoleon." 

"  Tres  bien!     Trh  bien!  *'  cried  the  House. 

"  The  government,  anxious  to  discharge  a  great  national 
duty,  asked  England  for  the  precious  treasure  which  fortune 
had  put  into  her  hands. 

"  The  thought  of  France  was  welcomed  as  soon  as  ex- 
pressed.    Listen  to  the  reply  of  our  magnanimous  ally : 

it  i' 

The  government  of  her  Majesty  hopes  that  the  promptness  of  her 
response  will  be  considered  in  France  as  a  proof  of  her  desire  to  efface 
the  last  traces  of  those  national  animosities  which  armed  France  and 
England  against  each  other  in  the  life  of  the  emperor.  The  govern- 
ment of  her  Majesty  dares  to  hope  that  if  such  sentiments  still  exist 
in  certain  quarters,  they  will  be  buried  in  the  tomb  where  the  remains 
of  Napoleon  are  to  be  deposited/  " 

The  reading  of  this  generous  and  dignified  communica- 
tion caused  a  profound  sensation,  and  cries  of  "Bravo! 
bravo!"  re-echoed  through  the  hall.  The  minister,  so  well 
received,  grew  eloquent. 

"  England  is  right,  gentlemen ;  the  noble  way  in  which 
restitution  has  been  made  will  knit  the  bonds  which  unite 
us.  It  will  wipe  out  all  traces  of  a  sorrowful  past.  The 
time  has  come  when  the  two  nations  should  remember  only 
their  glory.  The  frigate  freighted  with  the  mortal  remains 
of  Napoleon  will  return  to  the  mouth  of  the  Seine.  They 
will  be  placed  in  the  Invalides.  A  solemn  celebration  and 
grand  religious  and  military  ceremonies  will  consecrate 
the  tomb  which  must  guard  them  forever. 

**  It  is  important,  gentlemen,  that  this  august  sepulchre 
should  not  remain  exposed  in  a  public  place,  in  the  midst 
of  a  noisy  and  inappreciative  populace.  It  should  be  in  a 
silent  and  sacred  spot,  where  all  those  who  honor  glory 
and  genius,  grandeur  and  misfortune,  can  visit  it  and 


"  He  was  emperor  and  king.  He  was  the  legitimate 
sovereign  of  our  country.  He  is  entitled  to  burial  at  Saint- 
Denis.  But  the  ordinary  ro>'al  sepulchre  is  not  enough  for 
Napoleon.  He  should  reign  and  command  forever  in  the 
spot  where  the  country's  soldiers  repose,  and  where  those 
who  are  called  to  defend  it  will  seek  their  inspiration.  His 
sword  will  be  placed  on  his  tomb. 

"  Art  will  raise  beneath  the  dome  of  the  temple  conse- 
crated to  the  god  of  battles  a  tomb  worthy,  if  that  be  pos- 
sible, of  the  name  which  shall  be  engraved  upon  it.  This 
monument  must  have  a  simple  beauty,  grand  outlines,  and 
that  appearance  of  eternal  strength  which  defies  the  action 
of  time.  Napoleon  must  have  a  monument  lasting  as  his 
memory,    .    ,    . 

■'  Hereafter  France  and  France  alone,  will  possess  all 
that  remains  of  Napoleon.  His  tomb,  like  his  fame,  will 
belong  to  no  one  but  his  country.  The  monarchy  of  1830 
is  the  only  and  the  legitimate  heir  of  the  past  of  which 
France  is  so  prou<l.  It  is  the  duty  of  this  monarchy,  which 
was  the  first  to  rally  all  the  forces  and  to  conciliate  all  the 
aspirations  of  the  French  Revolution,  fearlessly  to  raise  and 
honor  the  statue  and  the  tomb  of  the  popular  hero.  There 
is  one  thing,  one  only,  which  does  not  fear  comparison 
with  glory — that  is  liberty." 

Throughout  this  speech,  every  word  of  which  was  an 
astonishment  to  the  Chamber,  sincere  and  deep  emotion 
prevailed.  At  intervals  enthusiastic  applause  burst  forth. 
For  a  moment  all  party  distinctions  were  forgotten.  The 
whole  House  was  under  the  sway  of  that  strange  and 
powerful  emotion  which  Napoleon,  as  no  other  leader  who 
ever  lived,  was  able  to  inspire. 

When  the  minister  followed  his  speech  by  the  draft  of  a 
law  for  a  special  credit  of  one  million  francs,  a  member, 
beside  himself  with  excitement,  moved  that  rules  be  laid 


aside  and  the  law  voted  without  the  legal  preliminaries. 
The  president  refused  to  put  so  irregular  a  motion,  but  the 
House  would  not  be  quiet.  The  deputies  left  their  places, 
formed  in  groups  in  the  hemicycle,  surrounded  the  minister, 
congratulating  him  with  fervor.  They  walked  up  and  down, 
gesticulating  and  shouting.  It  was  fully  half  an  hour  before 
the  president  was  able  to  bring  them  to  order,  and  then 
they  were  in  anything  but  a  working  mood. 

**  The  president  must  close  this  session,'*  cried  an  agitated 
member;  "  the  law  which  has  just  been  proposed  has  caused 
too  great  emotion  for  us  to  return  now  to  discussing  sugar." 
But  the  president  replied  very  properly,  and  a  little  sen- 
tentiously,  that  the  Chamber  owed  its  time  to  the  country's 
business,  and  that  it  must  give  it.  And,  in  spite  of  their  ex- 
citement, the  members  had  to  go  back  to  their  sugar. 

But  how  had  it  come  about  that  the  French  government 
had  dared  burst  upon  the  country  with  so  astounding  a 
communication.  There  were  many  explanations  offered. 
A  curious  story  which  went  abroad  took  the  credit  from 
the  king  and  gave  it  to  O'Connell,  the  Irish  agitator. 
As  the  story  went,  O'Connell  had  warned  Lord  Palmer- 
ston  that  he  proposed  to  present  a  bill  in  the  Commons  for 
returning  Napoleon's  remains  to  France. 

**  Take  care,"  said  Lord  Palmerston.  "  Instead  of  pleas- 
ing the  French  government,  you  may  embarrass  it  se- 

*'  That  is  not  the  question,"  answered  O'Connell.  "  The 
question  for  me  is  what  I  ought  to  do.  Now,  my  duty  is 
to  propose  to  the  Commons  to  return  the  emperor's  bones. 
England's  duty  is  to  welcome  the  motion.  I  shall  make 
my  propositions,  then,  without  disturbing  myself  about 
whom  they  will  flatter  or  wound." 

**  So  be  it,"  said  Lord  Palmerston.  *'  Only  give  me  fifteen 


"  Very  well,"  answered  O'Connell. 

Immediately  Lord  Palmerston  wrote  to  Monsieur  Thiers, 
then  at  the  head  of  the  French  Ministry,  that  he  was  about 
to  be  forced  to  tell  the  country  that  England  had  never  re- 
fused to  return  the  remains  of  Napoleon  to  France,  because 
France  had  never  asked  that  they  be  returned.  As  the 
story  goes.  Monsieur  Thiers  advised  Louis  Philippe  to 
forestall  O'Connell,  and  thus  it  came  about  that  Napoleon's 
remains  were  returned  to  France. 

The  grande  pensee,  as  the  idea  was  immediately  called, 
seems,  however,  to  have  originated  with  Monsieur  Thiers, 
who  saw  in  it  a  means  of  reawakening  interest  in  Louis 
Philippe.  He  believed  that  the  very  audacity  of  the  act 
would  create  admiration  and  applause.  Then,  too,  it  was  in 
harmony  with  the  claim  of  the  regime;  that  is,  that  the 
government  of  1830  united  all  that  was  best  in  all  the  past 
governments  of  France,  and  so  was  stronger  than  any  one 
of  them.  The  mania  of  both  king  and  minister  for  collect- 
ing and  restoring  made  them  think  favorably  of  the  idea. 
Already  Louis  Philii)pe  had  inaugurated  galleries  at  Ver- 
sailles, and  hung  them  with  miles  of  canvas,  celebrating 
the  victories  of  all  his  predecessors.  In  the  gallery  of  por- 
traits he  had  placed  Marie  Antoinette  and  Louis  XVI.  be- 
side Madame  Roland,  Charlotte  Corday,  Robespierre,  and 
Napoleon  and  his  marshals. 

He  had  already  replaced  the  statue  of  Napoleon  on  the 
top  of  the  Column  Vendome.  He  had  restored  cathedrals, 
churches,  and  chateaux,  put  up  statues  and  monuments,  and 
all  this  he  had  done  with  studied  indifference  to  the  politics 
of  the  individuals  honored. 

Yet  while  so  many  little  important  personages  were  being 
exalted,  the  remains  of  the  greatest  leader  France  had  ever 
known,  were  lying  in  a  far-away  island.     Louis  Philippe 


felt  that  no  monument  he  could  build  to  the  heroes  of  the 
past  would  equal  restoring  Napoleon's  remains. 

The  matter  was  simpler,  because  it  was  almost  certain 
that  England  would  not  block  the  path.  The  entente  cor- 
diale,  whose  base  had  been  laid  by  Talleyrand  nearly  ten 
years  earlier,  had  become  a  comparatively  solid  peace,  and 
cither  nation  was  willing  to  go  out  of  the  way,  if  necessary, 
to  do  the  other  a  neighborly  kindness.  France  was  so  full 
of  good  will  that  she  was  even  willing  to  ask  a  favor.  Her 
confidence  w^as  well  placed.  Two  days  after  Guizot,  then 
the  French  minister  to  England,  had  explained  the  project 
to  Lord  Palmerston,  and  made  his  request,  he  had  his  reply. 

The  remains  of  Jthe  **  emperor  "  were  at  the  disposition 
of  the  French.  Of  the  **  emperor,"  notice !  After  twenty- 
five  years  England  recalled  the  act  of  her  ministers  in  181 5, 
and  recognized  that  France  made  Napoleon  emperor  as  well 
as  general. 

The  announcement  that  Napoleon's  remains  w'ere  to  be 
brought  back,  produced  the  same  eflfect  upon  the  country  at 
large  that  it  had  upon  the  Chamber — a  moment  of  acute 
emotion,  of  all-forgetting  enthusiasm.  But  in  the  Chamber 
and  the  country  the  feeling  was  short-lived.  The  political 
aspects  of  the  bold  movement  were  too  conspicuous.  A 
chorus  of  criticisms  and  forebodings  arose.  It  was  more 
of  Monsieur  Thiers'  clap-trap,  said  those  opposed  to  the 
English  policy  of  the  government.  What  particularly 
angered  this  party,  was  the  words  "  magnanimous  ally ''  in 
the  minister's  address. 

The  Bonapartes  feigned  to  despise  the  proposed  cere- 
mony. It  was  insufficient  for  the  greatness  of  their  hero. 
One  million  francs  could  not  possibly  produce  the  display 
the  object  demanded.  Another  point  of  theirs  was  more 
serious.     The  emperor  was  the  legitimate  sovereign  of  the 


country,  they  said,  quoting  from  the  minister's  speech  to 
the  Chamber,  and  they  added :  **  His  title  was  founded  on 
the  senatus  consultum  of  the  year  12,  which,  by  an  equal 
number  of  suffrages,  secured  the  succession  to  his  brother 
Joseph.  It  was  then  unquestionably  Joseph  Bonaparte  who 
was  proclaimed  emperor  of  the  French  by  the  Minister  of 
the  Interior,  and  amid  the  applause  of  the  deputies." 

Scoffers  said  that  Louis  Philippe  must  have  discovered 
that  his  soft  mantle  of  popularity  was  about  worn  out,  if  he 
was  going  to  make  one  of  the  old  gray  redingote  of  a  man 
whom  he  had  called  a  monster.  The  Legitimists  denied  that 
Napoleon  was  a  legitimate  sovereign  with  a  right  to  sleep 
at  Saint-Denis  like  a  Bourbon  or  a  Valois.  The  OrleanistS 
were  wounded  by  the  hopes  they  saw  inspired  in  the  Bona- 
partists  by  this  declaration.  The  Republicans  resented  the 
honor  done  to  the  man  whom  they  held  up  as  the  greatest 
of  all  despots. 

There  was  a  conviction  among  many  that  the  restoration 
was  premature,  and  probably  would  bring  on  the  country 
an  agitation  which  would  endanger  the  stability  of  the 
throne.  It  was  tempting  the  Bonaparte  pretensions  cer- 
tainly, and  perhaps  arousing  a  tremendous  popular  sen- 
timent to  support  them. 

While  the  press  and  government,  the  clubs  and  cafes, 
discussed  the  political  side  of  the  question,  the  populace 
quietly  revived  the  Napoleon  legend.  Within  two  days 
after  the  government  had  announced  its  intentions,  com- 
merce had  begim  to  take  advantage  of  the  financial  possi- 
bilities in  the  approaching  ceremony.  New  editions  of  the 
"  Lives  *'  of  Napoleon  which  Vernet  and  Raffet  had  illus- 
trated, were  advertised.  Dumas'  "  Life "  and  Thiers' 
"  Consulate  and  Empire  "  were  announced.  Memoirs  of 
the  period,  like  those  of  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantes  and  of 
Marmont,  were  revived. 


As  on  the  announcement  of  Napoleon's  death  in  182 1, 
there  was  an  inundation  of  pamphlets  in  verse  and  prose; 
of  portraits  and  war  compositions,  lithographs,  engrav- 
ings, and  wood-cuts;  of  thousands  of  little  objects  such  as 
the  French  know  so  well  how  to  make.  The  shops  and 
street  carts  were  heaped  with  every  conceivable  article  d  la 
Napoleon,    The  legend  grew  as  the  people  gazed. 

On  July  7th  the  *'  Belle  Poule/'  the  vessel  which  was  to 
conduct  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  the  commander  of  the  ex- 
pedition, to  St.  Helena,  sailed  from  Toulon  accompanied 
by  the  "  Favorite."  In  the  suite  of  the  Prince  were  several 
old  friends  of  Napoleon:  the  Baron  las  Cases,  General 
Gourgaud,  Count  Bertrand,  and  four  of  his  former  serv- 
ants. All  these  persons  had  been  with  him  at  St. 

The  Prince  de  Joinville  had  not  received  his  orders  to 
go  on  the  expedition  with  great  pleasure.  Two  of  his 
brothers  had  just  been  sent  to  Africa  to  fight,  and  he  envied 
them  "their  opportunities  for  adventures  and  glory;  and, 
besides,  he  was  sick  of  a  most  plebeian  complaint,  the 
measles.  *'  One  day  as  I  lay  in  high  fever,"  he  says  in  his 
"  Memoirs,"  "  I  saw  my  father  appear,  followed  by  Mon- 
sieur de  Remusat,  then  Minister  of  the  Interior.  This  un- 
usual visit  filled  me  with  astonishment,  and  my  surprise  in- 
creased when  my  father  said,  *  Joinville,  you  are  to  go  out 
to  St.  Helena  and  bring  back  Napoleon's  coffin.'  If  I  had 
not  been  in  bed  already  I  should  have  fallen  down  flat,  and 
at  first  blush  I  felt  no  wise  flattered  when  I  compared  the 
warlike  campaign  my  brothers  were  on  with  the  under- 
taker's job  I  was  being  sent  to  perform  in  the  other  hem- 
isphere. But  I  served  my  country,  and  I  had  no  right  to 
discuss  mv  orders." 

If  the  young  prince  was  privately  a  little  ashamed  of  his 
task,  publicly  he  adapted  himself  admirably  to  the  occasion. 

Prom  a  recent  photograph. 


A  voyage  of  sixty-six  days  brought  the  "  Belle  Poule," 
on  October  8th,  to  St.  Helena,  where  she  was  welcomed 
by  the  English  with  every  honor.  Indeed,  throughout  the 
aflfair  the  attitude  of  the  English  was  dignified  and  gener- 
ous. They  showed  plainly  their  desire  to  satisfy  and  flatter 
the  pride  and  sentiment  of  the  French. 

It  had  been  decided  that  the  exhumation  of  the  body  and 
its  transfer  to  the  French  should  take  place  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  anniversary  of  the  arrival  of  Napoleon  at  the  island. 
The  disinterment  was  begun  at  midnight  on  October  15th, 
the  English  conducting  the  work,  and  a  number  of  the 
French,  including  those  of  the  party  who  had  been  with 
Napoleon  at  his  death,  being  present.  The  work  was  one 
of  extraordinary  difficulty,  for  the  same  remarkable  pre- 
cautions against  escape  were  taken  in  Napoleon's  death  as 
had  been  in  his  life. 

The  grave  in  the  Valley  of  Napoleon,  as  the  place  had 
come  to  be  called,  was  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing  set  in 
a  heavy  stone  curb.  Over  the  grave  was  a  covering  of  six- 
inch  stone  which  admitted  to  a  vault  eleven  feet  deep,  eight 
feet  long,  and  four  feet  eight  inches  broad.  The  vault  was 
apparently  filled  with  earth,  but  digging  down  some  seven 
feet  a  layer  of  Roman  cement  was  found ;  this  broken,  laid 
bare  a  layer  of  rough-hewn  stone  ten  inches  thick,  and 
fastened  together  by  iron  clamps.  It  took  four  and  one- 
half  hours  to  remove  this  layer.  The  stone  up,  the  slab 
forming  the  lid  of  the  interior  sarcophagus  was  exposed, 
enclosed  in  a  border  of  Roman  cement  strongly  attached  to 
the  walls  of  the  vault.  So  stoutly  had  all  these  various 
coverings  been  sealed  with  cement  and  bound  by  iron  bands, 
that  it  took  the  large  party  of  laborers  ten  hours  to  reach  the 

As  soon  as  exposed  the  coffin  was  purified,  sprinkled  with 
holy  water,  consecrated  by  a  De  Profundis,  and  then  raised 

3o6  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON      • 

with  the  greatest  care,  and  carried  into  a  tent  which  had 
been  prepared  for  it.  After  the  religious  ceremonies,  the 
inner  coffins  were  opened.  *'  The  outermost  coffin  was 
slightly  injured,"  says  an  eye  witness ;  "  then  came  one  of 
lead,  which  was  in  good  condition,  and  enclosed  two  others 
— one  of  tin  and  one  of  wood.  The  last  coffin  was  lined 
inside  with  white  satin,  which,  having  become  detached  by 
the  effect  of  time,  had  fallen  upon  the  body  and  enveloped 
it  like  a  winding-sheet,  and  had  become  slightly  attached 
to  it. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  describe  with  what  anxiety  and  emotion 
those  who  were  present  waited  for  the  moment  which  was 
to  expose  to  them  all  that  was  left  of  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon. Notwithstanding  the  singular  state  of  preservation 
of  the  tomb  and  coffins,  we  could  scarcely  hope  to  find  any- 
thing but  some  misshapen  remains  of  the  least  perishable 
part  of  the  costume  to  evidence  the  identity  of  the  body. 
But  when  Dr.  Guillard  raised  the  sheet  of  satin,  an  in- 
describable feeling  of  surprise  and  affection  was  experienced 
by  the  spectators,  many  of  whom  burst  into  tears.  The 
emperor  himself  was  before  their  eyes!  The  features  of 
the  face,  though  changed,  were  perfectly  recognizable;  the 
hands  extremely  beautiful ;  his  well-known  costume  had 
suffered  but  little,  and  the  colors  were  easily  distinguished. 
The  attitude  itself  was  full  of  ease,  and  but  for  the  frag- 
ments of  satin  lining  which  covered,  as  with  fine  gauze, 
several  parts  of  the  uniform,  we  might  have  believed  we  still 
saw  Napoleon  lying  on  his  bed  of  state." 

A  solemn  procession  was  now  formed,  and  the  coffin 
borne  over  the  rugged  hills  of  St.  Helena  to  the  quay.  "  We 
were  all  deeply  impressed,"  says  the  Prince  de  Joinville, 
'*  when  the  coffin  was  seen  coming  slowly  down  the  moun- 
tain side  to  the  firing  of  cannon,  escorted  by  British  infantry 
with  arms  reversed,  the  band  playing,  to  the  dull  rolling 


accompaniment  of  the  drums,  that  splendid  funeral  march 
which  English  people  call  the  Dead  March  in  Saul/' 

At  the  head  of  the  quay,  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  attended 
by  the  officers  of  the  French  vessels,  was  waiting  to  receive 
the  remains  of  the  emperor.  In  the  midst  of  the  most 
solemn  military  funeral  rites  the  French  embarked  with  their 
precious  charge.  **  The  scene  at  that  moment  was  very 
fine,"  continues  the  prince.  "  A  magnificent  sunset  had 
been  succeeded  by  a  twilight  of  the  deepest  calm.  The 
British  authorities  and  the  troops  stood  motionless  on  the 
beach,  while  our  ship's  guns  fired  a  royal  salute.  I  stood 
in  the  stern  of  my  long-boat,  over  which  floated  a  magnifi- 
cent tricolor  flag,  worked  by  the  ladies  of  St.  Helena.  Be- 
side me  were  the  generals  and  superior  officers.  The  pick 
of  my  topmen,  all  in  white,  with  crape  on  their  arms,  and 
bareheaded  like  ourselves,  rowed  the  boat  in  silence,  and 
with  the  most  admirable  precision.  We  advanced  with 
majestic  slowness,  escorted  by  the  boats  bearing  the  staflF. 
It  was  very  touching,  and  a  deep  national  sentiment  seemed 
to  hover  over  the  whole  scene.  *' 

But  no  sooner  did  the  coffin  reach  the  French  cutter  than 
mourning  was  changed  to  triumph.  Flags  were  unfurled, 
masts  squared,  drums  set  a-beating,  and  salvos  poured 
from  ports  and  vessels.  The  emperor  had  come  back  to  his 
own ! 

Three  days  later  the  "  Belle  Poule  "  was  en  route  for 
France.  One  incident  alone  marked  her  return.  A  pass- 
ing vessel  brought  the  news  that  war  had  been  declared  be- 
tween France  and  England.  The  Prince  de  Joinville  was 
niilv  twentv-two,  a  hot-headed  vouth,  and  the  news  of  war 
immediately  convinced  him  that  England  had  her  fleet  out 
watching  for  him,  ready  to  carry  oflF  Napoleon  again.  He 
rose  to  the  height  of  his  fears.  The  elegant  furnishings  of 
the  saloons  of  his  vessel  were  torn  out  and  thrown  over- 


board  to  make  room  for  the  batteries:  the  men  were  made 
ready  for  fighting,  and  everybody  on  board  was  compelled 
to  take  an  oath  to  sink  the  vessel  before  allowing  the  re- 
mains to  be  taken.  This  done,  the  "  Belle  Poule ''  went 
her  way  peacefully  to  Cherbourg,  where  she  arrived  on 
November  30th,  forty-three  days  after  leavving  St.  Helena. 

The  town  of  Cherbourg  owes  much  to  Napoleon — her 
splendid  harbors,  and  great  tracts  of  land  rescued  from  the 
sea — and  she  honored  the  return  of  his  remains  with  every 
pomp.  Even  the  poor  of  the  town  were  made  to  rejoice  by 
lavish  gifts  in  the  emperor's  honor;  and  one  of  the  chief 
squares — one  he  had  redeemed  from  the  sea — became  the 
Place  Napoleon. 

The  vessels  lay  eight  days  at  Cherbourg,  for  the  arrival 
had  been  a  fortnight  earlier  than  was  anticipated,  and  noth- 
ing was  ready  for  the  celebration  at  Paris:  but  the  time 
was  none  too  long  for  the  thousands  who  flocked  in  in- 
terminable processions  to  the  vessels.  When  the  vessels  left 
for  Havre,  Cherbourg  was  so  excited  that  she  did  what 
must  have  seemed  to  the  nervous  inhabitants  an  extrava- 
gance, even  in  Napoleon's  honor,  she  fired  a  thousand  guns ! 

The  passage  of  the  flotilla  from  Cherbourg  to  Paris  took 
seven  days.  At  almost  every  town  and  hamlet  elaborate 
demonstrations  were  made.  At  Havre  and  Rouen  they 
were  especially  magnificent. 

A  striking  feature  of  the  river  cortege  was  the  ceremonies 
at  the  various  bridges  under  w^iich  the  vessels  passed.  The 
most  elaborate  of  these  was  at  Rouen,  where  the  central 
arch  of  the  suspension  bridge  had  been  formed  into  an  im- 
mense arch  of  triumph.  The  decorations  were  the  ex- 
clusive work  of  wounded  legionary  officers  and  soldiers  of 
the  Empire.  When  the  vessel  bearing  the  coffin  passed 
under,  the  veterans  showered  down  upon  it  wreaths  of 
flowers  and  branches  of  laurel. 


These  elaborate  and  grandiose  ceremonies  were  not,  how- 
ever, the  really  touching  feature  of  the  passage.  The  hill- 
sides and  river-banks  were  crowded  with  people  from  all 
the  surrounding  country,  who  sometimes  even  pressed  into 
the  river  in  order  better  to  see  the  vessels.  Those  on  the 
flotilla  saw  aged  peasants  firing  salutes  with  ancient  mus- 
kets, old  men  kneeling  with  uncovered  heads  on  the  sod, 
and  others,  their  heads  in  their  hands  weeping — ^these  men 
were  veterans  of  the  Empire  paying  homage  to  the  passage 
of  their  hero. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  of  December  14th,  just  as  the  sun 
was  setting  radiantly  behind  Mt.  Valerian,  that  the  flotilla 
reached  Courbevoie,  a  few  miles  from  Paris,  where  Napo- 
leon's body  was  first  to  touch  French  soil.  The  bridge  at 
Courbevoie,  the  islands  of  Neuilly,  the  hills  which  rise  from 
the  Seine,  were  crowded,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  with 
a  throng  drawn  from  the  entire  country  around. 

The  flotilla  as  it  approached  was  a  brilliant  sight.  At  the 
head  was  the  "  Dorade,'*  a  cross  at  her  prow,  and,  behind, 
the  coffin.  It  was  draped  in  purple  velvet,  surrounded  by 
flags  and  garlands  of  oak  and  cypress,  and  surmounted  by  a 
canopy  of  black  velvet  ornamented  with  silver  and  masses  of 
floating  black  plumes.  Between  cross  and  coffin  stood  the 
Prince  de  Joinville  in  full  uniform,  and  behind  him  Gen- 
erals Bert  rand  and  Gourgaud  and  the  Abbe  Coquereau, 
almoner  of  the  expedition.  The  vessels  following  the 
*•  Dorade ''  bore  the  crews  of  the  **  Belle  Poule ''  and  the 
"  Favorite "  and  the  military  bands.  A  magnificent  fu- 
neral boat,  on  whose  deck  there  was  a  temple  of  bronzed 
wood,  hung  with  splendid  draperies  of  purple  and  gold, 
brought  up  the  official  procession.  Behind  followed  num- 
berless craft  of  all  descriptions.  Majestic  funeral  marches 
and  salvos  of  artillery  accompanied  the  advance. 

At  Courbevoie  the  flotilla  anchored.      Notwithstanding 


the  intense  cold,  thousands  of  people  camped  all  night  on 
the  hill-sides  and  shores,  their  bivouac  fires  illuminating  the 

Only  those  who  have  seen  Paris  on  the  day  of  a  great 
fete  or  ceremony  can  picture  to  themselves  the  15th  of  De- 
cember, 1840.  The  day  was  intensely  cold,  eight  degrees 
below  the  freezing  point,  but  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  the  drums  began  beating,  and  the  guns  booming,  the 
populace  poured  forth,  taking  up  their  positions  along  the 
line  of  the  expected  procession.  This  line  was  fully  three 
miles  in  length,  and  ran  from  Courbevoie  to  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  by  way  of  Neuilly,  thence  down  the  Champs  Ely- 
sees,  across  the  Place  and  Bridge  de  la  Concorde,  and  along 
the  qxiai  to  the  Esplanade  des  Invalides.  From  one  end  to 
the  other  it  was  packed  on  either  side  a  hundred  deep,  before 
nine  o'clock.  The  journals  of  the  day  compute  the  number 
of  visitors  expected  in  Paris  as  about  half  a  million.  Inside 
and  outside  of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  alone,  thirty-six  thou- 
sand places  were  given  to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  and 
that  did  not  cover  one-tenth  of  the  requests  he  received.  It 
is  certain  that  nearly  a  million  persons  saw  the  entry  of  Na- 
poleon's remains.  The  people  hung  from  the  trees,  crowded 
the  roofs,  stood  on  ladders  of  every  description,  filled  the 
windows,  and  literally  swarmed  over  the  walks  and  gjass 
plots.  A  brisk  business  went  on  in  elevated  positions.  A 
ladder  rung  cost  five  francs  ($1.00)  ;  the  man  who  had  a 
cart  across  which  he  had  laid  boards,  rented  standing-room 
at  from  five  to  ten  francs.  As  for  windows  and  balconies — 
they  sold  for  fabulous  prices,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
placard  fenetres  ct  balcons  a  loner  appeared  in  almost  every 
house  from  Neuilly  to  the  Invalides,  even  in  many  a  mag- 
nificent hotel  of  the  Champs  Elysees.  Fifty  francs  ($10.00) 
was  the  price  of  the  meanest  window :  a  good  one  cost  one 
hundred  francs  ($20.00) ;  three  thousand  francs  ($600.00) 


were  paid  for  good  balconies.  One  speculator  rented  a  va- 
cant house  for  the  day  for  five  tinmsand  francs  ($i,ooo.ooj, 
and  made  money  on  his  investment. 

The  crowd  made  every  pre|>aration  to  keep  warm ;  some 
of  tliem  carried  foot-stoves  filled  with  live  coals,  others  little 
hand-warmers.  At  intervals  along  the  procession  great 
masses  of  the  spectators  danced  to  keep  up  their  circulation. 
Vendors  of  all  sorts  of  articles  did  a  thriving  business. 
Every  article  was,  of  course.  Napoleonized ;  one  even  bought 
gauifrctics  and  Madeleines  cut  out  in  the  shajie  of  Napo- 
leons. There  were  t>adges  of  every  form — im|)erial  eagles, 
bees,  crowns,  even  the  petit  chafeau.  Many  pamphlets  in 
prose  and  verse  had  a  great  sale,  especially  those  of  Casimir 
Delavigne,  Victor  Hugo,  and  Barthelemy;  though  all  these 
stately  odes  were  far  outstripped  by  one  song,  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  copies  ()f  which  were  sold.     It  ran : 

'■  PreniitT    capitaint    ilii    inonile 

Depuis  le  sii'ge  de  Toulon. 
Tant  'ur  la  terrc  iiiic  siir  I'onde 

Tout  rcdouiail  Napoleon, 

Dii  Nil  ail  nord  dp  la  Taniise ! 

Devant  lui  rennemi  fuyait. 
Avatit  de  combatlre,  il  tremblail 

Voyant  sia  redingote  grise." 

The  cortege  which  ha<l  brought  this  crowd  together  was 
magnificent  in  the  extreme.  A  brilliant  military  display 
formed  the  first  portion :  gendarmerie,  municipal  guards, 
officers,  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery,  cadets  from  the  im- 
portant schools,  national  guards.  But  this  had  little  effect 
on  the  crowd.  The  genuine  interest  began  when  Marengo, 
Napoleon's  famous  battle-horse,  appeared — it  was  not  Mar- 
engo, but  it  looked  like  him.  which  for  spectacular  purposes 
was  just  as  welt;  and  the  saddle  and  bridle  were  genuine. 
The  defile  now  became  e.xciting.     The  commission  of  St. 


Helena  appeared  in  carriages,  then  the  Marshals  of  France, 
the  Prince  de  Joinville,  the  crews  of  the  vessels  which  had 
been  to  St.  Helena,  finally  the  funeral  car,  a  magnificent 
creation  over  thirty  feet  high,  its  design  and  ornaments  sym- 
bolic. Sixteen  black  horses  in  splendid  trappings  drew  the 
car,  whose  funeral  pall  was  held  by  a  marshal  and  an  admiral 
of  France,  by  the  Due  de  Reggio  and  General  Bert  rand. 

The  passing  of  the  car  was  everywhere  greeted  with  sin- 
cere emotion,  profound  reverence.  Even  the  opposition  rec- 
ognized the  genuineness  of  the  feeling;  many  of  them  owned 
to  sharing  it  for  one  moment  of  self-forgetfulness,  and  they 
began  to  ask  themselves,  as  Lamartine  had  asked  the  Cham- 
ber six  months  before,  what  they  had  been  thinking  of  to 
allow  the  French  heart  and  imagination  to  be  so  fired  ?  Even 
cynical  Englishmen  who  looked  on  with  stern  or  contemptu- 
ous countenances,  said  to  themselves  meditatively  that  night, 
as  they  sat  by  their  fire  resting,  **  Something  good  must 
have  been  in  this  man,  something  loving  and  kindly,  that  has 
kq)t  his  name  so  cherished  in  the  popular  memory  and  gained 
him  such  lasting  reverence  and  affection." 

Following  the  car  came  those  who  had  been  intimately 
associated  with  the  emperor  in  his  life — his  aides-de-camp 
and  civil  and  military  officers.  Many  of  them  had  been  with 
him  in  famous  battles;  some  were  at  Fontainebleau  in  1814, 
others  at  Malmaison  in  181 5.  The  veterans  of  the  Im- 
l)erial  Guard  followed;  behind  them  a  deputation  from 

From  Courbevoie  to  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  one  walked 
through  a  hedge  of  elaborate  decorations — of  bees,  eagles, 
crowns,  N's;  of  bucklers,  banners,  and  wreaths  bearing  the 
names  of  famous  victories;  of  urns  blazing  with  incense; 
of  rostral  columns;  masts  bearing  trophies  of  arms  and 
clusters  of  flags;  flaming  tripods;  allegorical  statues;  tri- 
umphal arches;  great  banks  of  seats  draped  in   imperial 


purple  and  packed  with  spectators,  and  phalanges  of  sol- 

On  the  top  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  was  an  imposing 
apotheosis  of  Napoleon.  Each  side  of  the  Pont  de  la  Con- 
corde was  adorned  with  huge  statues.  On  the  Esplanade 
des  Invalides  the  car  passed  between  an  avenue  of  thirty- 
two  statues  of  great  French  kings,  heroes,  and  heroines — 
Charles  Martel,  Charlemagne,  Clovis,  Bayard,  Jeanne  d'Arc. 
Latour  d'Auvergne.  Ney.  The  chivalry  and  valor  of 
France  welcomed  Napoleon  home.  Oddly  enough,  this 
hedge  of  statues  ended  in  one  of  Napoleon  himself;  the  in- 
congruity off  the  arrangements  struck  even  the  gamins. 
"  Tiens,''  cried  one  urchin,  '*  voila  comme  Tempertur  fait 
la  queue  a  lui-meme.**  (**  Hello,  see  there  how  the  em- 
peror brings  up  his  own  procession.'') 

The  procession  passed  quietly  from  one  end  to  the  other 
of  the  route,  to  the  great  relief  of  the  authorities.  Diffi- 
culty was  anticipated  from  several  sources :  from  the  An- 
glophobes,  the  Revolutionists,  the  Legitimists,  the  Bona- 
partists,  and  the  great  mass  of  dissatisfied,  who,  no  matter 
what  form  of  rule  they  are  under,  are  always  against  the 
government.  The  greatest  fear  seems  to  have  been  on  the 
part  of  the  English.  Thackeray,  who  was  in  town  at  the 
time,  gives  an  amusing  picture  of  his  own  nervousness  on 
the  morning  of  the  1 5th. 

"  Did  the  French  nation,  or  did  they  not,  intend  to  offer  up  some 
of  us  English  over  the  imperial  grave?  And  were  the  games  to  be  con- 
cluded by  a  massacre?  It  was  said  in  the  newspapers  that  Lord 
Granville  had  despatched  circulars  to  all  the  English  residents  in 
Paris,  heg'ging  them  to  keep  .their  homes.  The  French  journals 
announced  this  news,  and  warned  us  charitably  of  the  fate  intended 
for  us.  Had  Lord  Granville  written?  Certainly  not  to  me.  Or  had 
he  written  to  all  except  mcT  And  was  /  the  victim — the  doomed  one? 
to  be  seized  directly  I  showed  my  face  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and 
torn    in   pieces   by    French    patriotism    to    the    frantic    chonis    of   the 


Marseillaise?  Depend  on  it,  Madame,  that  high  and  low  in  this  city 
on  Tuesday  were  not  .altogether  at  their  ease,  and  that  the  bravest 
felt  no  small  tremor.  And  be  sure  of  this,  that  as  his  Majesty  Louis 
Philippe  took  his  nightcap  off  his  royal  head  that  morning,  he  prayed 
heartily  that  he  might  at  night  put  it  on  in  safety." 

Fortunately  Thackeray's  courage  conquered,  and  so  we 
have  the  entertaining  **  Second  Funeral  of  Napoleon/'  by 
**  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh/' 

In  spite  of  all  forebodings,  the  hostile  displays  were  noth- 
ing more  than  occasional  cries  of  "A  bas  les  Anglais,"  a 
few  attempts  to  promenade  the  tricolor  flag  and  drown  Le 
Premier  Capitaine  du  Monde  by  the  Marseillaise,  and  a 
strong  indignation  when  it  was  learned  that  the  represent- 
atives of  the  allies  had  refused  to  be  present  at  the  final 

Most  of  the  observers  of  the  funeral  attributed  the  good 
order  of  the  crowd  to  the  cold.  A  correspondent  of  the 
**  National  Intelligence  "  of  that  date  says : 

**  If  this  business  had  fallen  in  the  month  of  June  or  July,  with  all 
its  excitements,  spontaneous  and  elaborate,  I  should  have  deemed  a 
sanguinary  struggle  between  the  government  and  the  mob  certain  or 
highly  probable.  The  present  military  array  might  answer  for  an 
approaching  army  of  Cossacks.  Forty  or  fifty  thousand  troops  remain 
in  the  barracks  within  and  camps  without,  besides  the  regular  soldiery 
and  National  Guards  in  the  field,  ready  to  act  against  the  domestic 

"  Providentially  the  cold  increased  to  the  utmost  keenness ;  the  genial 
currents  of  the  insurrectionary  and  revolutionary  soul  were  frozen." 

The  climax  of  the  pageant  was  in  the  temple  of  the  In- 
valides.  The  spacious  church  was  draped  in  the  most  mag- 
nificent and  lavish  fashion,  and  adorned  with  a  perfect  be- 
wilderment of  imperial  emblems.  The  light  was  shut  out 
by  hangings  of  violet  velvet;  tripods  blazing  with  colored 
flames,  and  thousands  upon  thousands  of  waxen  candles 
in  brilliant  candelabra  lighted  the  temple.    Under  the  dome, 


in  the  place  of  the  altar,  stood  the  catafalque  which  was  to 
receive  the  coffin. 

From  early  in  the  morning  the  galleries,  choir,  and  tri- 
bunes of  the  Invalides  were  packed  by  a  distinguished 
company.  There  were  the  Deputies  and  Senators — neither 
of  which  had  been  represented  in  the  cortege — the  judicial 
and  educational  bodies,  the  officers  of  army  and  navy,  the 
ambassadors  and  representatives  of  foreign  governments, 
the  king,  and  the  court. 

But  none  of  these  dignitaries  were  of  more  than  passing 
interest  that  day.  The  centre  of  attention,  until  the  coffin 
entered,  was  the  few  old  soldiers  of  the  Empire  to  be  seen 
in  the  company;  most  prominent  of  these  was  Marshal 
Moncey,  the  decrepit  governor  of  the  Invalides. 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris,  preceded  by  a  splendid  cross-bearer,  and  followed 
by  sixteen  incense  boys  and  long  rows  of  white-clad  priests, 
left  the  church  to  meet  the  procession.  They  returned  soon. 
Following  them  were  the  Prince  de  Joinville  and  a  select 
few  from  the  grand  cortege  without,  attending  Napoleon's 

As  it  passed,  the  great  assemblage  was  swayed  by  an  ex- 
traordinarv  emotion.  There  is  no  one  of  those  who  have 
described  the  day  who  does  not  speak  of  the  sudden,  in- 
tense agitation  which  thrilled  the  company,  whether  he 
refers  to  it  half -humorously  as  Thackeray,  who  told  how 
'*  everybody's  heart  was  thumping  as  hard  as  possible,"  or 
cries  with  Victor  Hugo : 

Sire:    En  ce  nionent-la,  vouz  aurez  pour  royaume, 
Tous  les  fronts,  tous  les  cceurs  qui  battront  sous  le  ciel, 

Lcs  nations  feront  asseoir  votre  fantome, 
Au  trone  universe!." 

The  king  descended  from  his  throne  and  advanced  to 
meet  the  cortege,    '*  Sire,"  said  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  "  I 


present  to  you  the  body  of  Napoleon,  which,  in  accordance 
with  your  commands,  I  have  brought  back  to  France." 

"  I  receive  it  in  the  name  of  France/'  replied  Louis 

Such  at  least  is  what  the  "  Moniteur  "  affirms  was  said, 
but  the  **  Moniteur ''  is  an  official  journal  whose  business 
is,  not  to  tell  what  really  happens,  but  what  the  government 
would  prefer  to  have  happen.  The  Prince  de  Joinville  gives 
a  different  version :  **  The  king  received  the  body  at  the 
entrance  to  the  nave,  and  there  rather  a  comical  scene  took 
place.  It  appears  that  a  little  speech  which  I  was  to  have 
delivered  when  I  met  my  father,  and  also  the  answer  he  was 
to  give  me,  had  been  drawn  up  in  council,  only  the  author- 
ities had  omitted  to  inform  me  concerning  it.  So  when  I 
arrived  I  simply  saluted  with  my  sword,  and  then  stood 
aside.  I  saw,  indeed,  that  this  silent  salute,  followed  by  re- 
treat, had  thrown  something  out;  Init  my  father  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  improvised  some  appropriate  sentence, 
and  the  matter  was  arranged  in  the  *  Moniteur.'  " 

Beside  the  king  stood  an  officer,  bearing  a  cushion :  on  it 
lay  the  sword  of  Austerlitz.  Marshal  Soult  handed  it  to 
the  king,  who,  turning  to  Bertrand,  said : 

"  General,  I  commission  you  to  place  the  emperor's 
glorious  sword  on  the  bier." 

And  Bertrand,  trembling  with  emotion,  laid  the  sword 
reverently  on  his  idol's  coffin.  The  great  company  watched 
the  scene  in  deepest  silence.  The  only  sound  which  broke 
the  stillness  was  the  half-stifled  sobs  of  the  gray-haired 
soldiers  of  the  Invalides,  who  stood  in  places  of  honor 
near  the  catafalque. 

The  king  and  the  procession  returned  to  their  places,  and 
then  followed  a  majestic  funeral  mass.  The  Requiem  of 
Mozart,  as  rendered  that  day  by  all  the  great  singers  of 
Paris,  is  one  of  the  historic  musical  performances  of  France. 


The  archbishop  then  sprinkled  the  coffin  with  holy  water, 
the  king  taking  the  brush  from  him  for  the  same  sacred 

The  funeral  was  over.  Napoleon  lay  at  last  "  on  the 
banks  of  the  Seine,  among  the  people  whom  he  had  so 
loved.*'  For  eight  days  after  the  ceremony  the  church  re- 
mained open  to  the  public,  and  in  spite  of  the  terrible  cold 
thousands  stood  from  morning  until  night  waiting  patiently 
their  turn  to  enter.  After  hours  of  waiting,  they  frequently 
were  sent  away,  only  to  come  back  earlier  the  next  day 
In  this  company  were  numbers  of  veterans  of  the  imperial 
army  who  had  made  the  journey  to  Paris  from  distant 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  In  the  delegation  from  Belgium 
were  many  who  had  walked  part  of  the  way,  not  being  able 
to  pay  full  coach  fare. 

Banquets  and  dinners  followed  the  funeral.  At  one  of 
these,  a  **  sacred  toast  to  the  immortal  memory  "  was  drunk 
kneeling.  In  a  dozen  theatres  of  Paris  the  translation  of 
the  remains  was  dramatized.  At  the  Porte  Saint-Martin, 
the  actor  who  took  the  part  of  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  had  a 
season  of  terror,  he  being  in  constant  danger  of  violence 
from  the  wrought-up  audience. 

The  advertising  columns  of  the  newspapers  of  the  day 
blazed  for  weeks  with  announcements  of  Napoleonized 
articles;  the  holiday  gifts  prepared  for  the  booths  of  the 
boulevards  and  squares,  and  for  the  magnificent  shops  of  the 
Palais  Royal  and  the  fashionable  streets,  whatever  their 
nature — to  eat,  to  wear,  to  look  at — were  made  up  as  me- 
morials.    Paris  seemed  to  be  Napoleon-mad. 

In  the  February  following  the  funeral,  the  coffin  of  Na- 
poleon was  transferred  from  the  catafalque  in  the  centre  of 
the  church  to  a  chapelle  ardent e  in  the  basement  at  one 
side.  The  chapel  was  richly  draped  in  silk  and  gold,  and 
hung  with  trophies.     On  the  coffin  lay  the  imperial  crown. 



the  emperor's  sword,  and  the  hat  which  he  had  worn  at 
Eylau,  and  which  he  had  given  to  Gros  when  he  ordered  the 
battle  of  Eylau  painted.  Over  the  coffin  waved  the  flags 
taken  at  Austerlitz. 

Here  Napoleon's  body  lay  until  the  mausoleum  was  fin- 
ished. This  magnificent  structure  was  designed  by  Vis- 
conti,  the  eminent  architect,  who  had  planned  the  entire 
decorations  of  the  isth  of  December.  Visconti  utterly  ig- 
nored the  appropriations  in  executing  the  monument,  order- 
ing what  he  wanted,  regardless  of  its  cost.  For  the  marble 
from  which  Pradier  made  the  twelve  colossal  figures  around 
the  tomb,  he  sent  to  Carrara ;  the  porphyry  which  was  used 
to  inclose  the  coffin,  he  obtained  in  Finland. 

In  this  magnificent  sepulchre  Napoleon  still  sleeps.  Du- 
roc  and  Bertrand  lie  on  either  side  of  the  entrance  to  the 
chamber,  guarding  him  in  death  as  in  life ;  and  to  the  right 
and  left  of  the  entrance  to  the  church  are  the  tombs  of  his 
brothers  Jerome  and  Joseph.  On  the  stones  about  him  are 
inscribed  the  names  he  made  glorious !  over  him  are  draped 
scores  of  trophies;  attending  him  are  the  veterans  of  the 

**  Qu'il  dorme  en  paix  sous  cette  voute ! 
Cest  un  casque  bien  fait,  sans  doute, 
Pour  cette  tcte  de  geant." 

■  by  the  sculptor  Vit: 

I   fur  the  luwn  of  St.   I'ie 

r  of  JOKphmc.     This  stai 

The  plaster  cast  is  in  I 


Life  oi^  Josephine 




THE  proudest  monument  in  the  Island  of  Martinique,  in 
the  French  West  Indies,  so  any  inhabitant  will 
tell  vou,  is  the  statue  of  a  woman  in  the  town  of 
St.  Pierre.  The  woman  thus  honored  is  Josephine,  once 
Empress  of  the  French  People,  who,  so  the  legend  on 
the  pedestal  of  the  statue  relates  was  born  at  the  hamlet  of 
Trois  Ilets,  Martinique,  on  June  23,  1763. 

If  one  searches  in  the  legends  of  the  island  for  an  ex- 
planation of  the  position  to  which  the  child  of  this  humble 
spot  arose,  he  will  find  nothing  more  serious  than  the  proph- 
ecy of  an  old  negress,  made  to  the  little  girl  herself,  that 
one  day  she  would  be  Queen  of  France.  If  he  looks  in  the 
chronicles  of  the  island  for  an  explanation,  he  will  find  noth- 
ing to  indicate  that  she  could  ever  rise  higher  than  the  life 
of  an  indolent  Creole,  a  life  narrowed  by  poverty  and  made 
tolerable  chiefly  by  the  beauty  of  the  nature  about  her  and 
by  her  own  happy  indifference  of  temperament. 

Joseph  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie,  the  child's  father,  w^as  the 
eldest  son  of  a  noble  of  Blois,  France,  who  went  to  Marti- 
nic|ue  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century  chiefly  be- 
cause he  could  not  succeed  in  anything  in  his  own  country. 


-   ri 

'1  - 




?  He  did  no  better  in  Martinique  than  he  had  done  in  France 

and  was  only  able  to  start  his  children  in  life  by  dint  of 
soliciting  favors  for  them  from  his  well-to-do  relatives  at 
home.  For  Joseph  he  obtained  a  small  military  position, 
but  the  lad  was  no  better  at  improving  his  opportunities 
than  his  father  had  been  and  returned  to  Martinique  after  a 
few  years  a  lieutenant  of  marines — without  a  place. 

When  soliciting  failed,  nothing  was  left  in  those  days 
for  a  nobleman  who  did  not  relish  work  but  marriage,  and 
Joseph  succeeded,  by  help  of  his  friends,  in  making  a  very 
good  one  with  Mile.  Rose-Claire  des  Vergers  de  Sannois, 
whose  father  was  of  noble  descent  and,  what  was  more  to 
the  point,  was  prosperous  and  of  good  standing  in  Marti- 
nique. Joseph  went  to  live  (mi  a  charming  plantation  belong- 
ing to  his  father-in-law,  just  back  from  the  sea  and  near  the 
village  of  Trois  Ilets.  Soon  after  this,  war  with  the  English 
called  him  into  service  as  a  defender  of  the  French  West 
Indies.     The  war  was  not  long,  and  for  his  services  he 

'  secured  a  pension  of  450  livres  (alxnit  ninety  dollars).     It 

|;  came  none  too  soon,  for  a  passing  hurricane  devastated  the 

plantation  at  Trois  Ilets  in  1766,  and  drove  the  family  into 
one  of  the  sugar  houses  to  live.  M.  de  la  Pagerie  was  never 
able  to  repair  the  damages  to  his  plantation  done  by  the 
storm  or  build  another  home  for  his  family.  He  never, 
indeed,  followed  any  steady  employment,  but  idled  his  life 
away  in  gaming,  intrigue,  and  soliciting — always  in  debt, 

'(_  always  in  bad  odor  among  honest  men — his  only  asset  his 


But  to  the  happiness  of  little  Josephine  it  mattered  very 
little  in  those  days  whether  her  home  w^as  a  sugar-house 
or  a  palace,  her  father  an  honest  man  or  a  sycophant.  Her 
days  were  spent  under  the  brilliant  skies,  in  the  forests  or 
the  open  fields,  chasing  birds  and  butterflies,  and  gathering 
the  gorgeous  tropical  flowers  which  to  the  end  of  her  life 


she  passionately  loved.  Almost  her  only  companions  were 
the  negroes  of  the  plantations,  who  gave  her  willing  ad- 
miration and  obedience.  Untaught,  unrestrained,  idolized 
by  slaves,  knowing  nothing  but  the  tropical  luxury  and 
beauty  of  the  nature  about  her.  she  developed  like  the  birds 
and  the  negroes,  becoming,  it  is  true,  a  graceful,  beautiful 
little  animal,  but  with  hardly  more  moral  sense  than  they 
and  with  even  less  sense  of  responsibility. 

Josephine  was  ten  years  old  before  it  occurred  to  anybody 
to  send  her  to  school.  So  far  her  only  instruction  had 
been  what  little  she  had  gathered  from  a  mother  occupied 
with  younger  children ;  from  the  priest  of  Trois  Ilets,  who, 
it  is  fair  to  suppose,  must  have  at  least  tried  to  teach  her  the 
catechism,  and  from  the  curious  lore  and  gossip  of  the 
negroes.  At  ten,  however,  she  was  sent  to  a  convent  at 
Fort  Royale,  w^here  she  remained  some  four  years.  Here 
she  was  taught  such  rudimentary  knowledge  as  enabled  her 
to  read, — if  not  understand,  to  write  a  polite  note,  to  dance, 
— not  very  well,  to  sing,  and  play  the  guitar  a  little.  It  was 
a  small  equipment,  but  no  doubt  as  good  as  most  young 
girls  of  Martinique  possessed  in  that  day.  Indeed  many  a 
noble-born  maid  in  France  started  out  with  less  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  it  was  quite  as  much  as  one  would 
suppose  from  her  position  that  she  would  need — more  than 
she  used  indeed,  for  little  Yeyette,  as  Josephine  w^as  called,  if 
amiable  and  obedient  when  she  left  the  convent,  was  in- 
dolent and  vain,  loving  far  better  her  childish  play  of  dec- 
orating herself  with  brilliant  flowers  and  watching  her  own 
image  in  the  clear  water  of  the  pools  on  the  plantation,  than 
she  did  books  and  music ;  and  the  loving  flattery  of  her  old 
nurse  was  dearer  to  her  than  any  amusement  she  found  in 
the  meager  society  of  the  island,  where  she  now  was  to  take 
her  place  and,  her  parents  hoped,  help  retrieve  the  bad  for- 
tunes of  the  family  by  a  good  marriage. 


The  opportunity  came  quickly.  Josephine  had  been  but 
a  few  months  out  of  the  convent  when  one  day  her  father 
laid  before  her  what  must  have  been  a  l)ewildering  and,  one 
would  suppose,  a  terrifying  proposition — would  she  like  to 
leave  Martinique  and  go  to  France,  there  to  marry  Alex- 
ander de  Beauharnais.  The  bov  was  not  unknown  to  her. 
Like  herself,  he  was  born  in  Martinicjue,  and  though  he  had 
left  there  when  she  was  only  seven  years  old  and  he  ten,  it 
is  not  unlikely  that  she  had  seen  him  occasionally  at  the 
home  of  her  grandmother  who  cared  for  him  in  the  absence 
of  his  father  and  mother  in  France. 

The  influence  which  had  led  the  father  of  Alexander  de 
Beauharnais  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  a  daughter  of  M.  de  la 
Pagerie  for  his  son  was  not  altogether  creditable.  The  two 
families  had  never  known  each  other  until  1757,  when  M.  de 
Beauharnais  came  to  Martinique  as  its  governor.  The  elder 
M.  de  la  Pagerie  was  not  slow  in  seeking  the  new  govern- 
or's acquaintance  and  support  for  his  family,  for  the  latter 
was  rich  and  in  favor  with  the  king  at  Versailles.  The  re- 
lation prospered  sufficiently  for  M.  de  la  Pagerie  to  secure  a 
place  in  the  household  of  the  governor  for  one  of  his  daugh- 
ters. He  could  have  done  nothing  better  for  his  family.  This 
daughter  was  not  long  in  gaining  an  important  influence 
over  both  M.  and  Mme.  de  Beauharnais,  and  in  winning  as  a 
husband  M.  Renaudin,  an  excellent  man  and  prosperous. 
This  for  herself.  For  her  family,  she  secured  so  many 
favors  from  the  governor  that  it  became  a  matter  of  serious 
criticism  and  finally,  added  to  other  indiscretions,  led  to  a 
divorce  between  her  and  M.  Renaudin.  All  this  scandal 
did  not  influence  the  governor,  however,  and  when,  in  1761, 
he  left  Martinique,  on  account  of  the  dissatisfaction  with 
his  administration  there,  and  hurried  to  France  with  his 
wife  to  make  his  peace  at  Versailles,  Mme.  Renaudin  went, 
too.    There  she  prospered,  buying  a  home  and  laying  aside 


money.  It  was  M.  de  Beauharnais's  money,  people  said. 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  she  exercised  great 
influence  over  him,  that  for  her  he  neglected  his  wife,  and 
that  after  the  latter*s  death  the  friendship  or  liaison  con- 
tinued until  his  death. 

From  all  this  it  will  be  seen  that  Mme.  Renaudin  was  a 
clever  woman,  intent  on  making  the  most  out  of  the  one 
really  strong  relation  she  had  been  able  to  form  in  her  life. 
She  was  clever  enough  to  see,  when  Alexander  was  brought 
to  France  after  his  mother's  death,  that  his  love  and  grati- 
tude would  be  one  of  her  strongest  cards  with  the  father  in 
the  future.  She  set  to  work  to  win  the  boy's  heart,  and  she 
succeeded  admirably.  In  his  eyes,  she  took  his  mother's 
place,  and  her  influence  over  him  was  almost  unlimited. 

By  the  time  he  was  seventeen,  Alexander  de  Beauharnais 
was  a  most  attractive  youth.  He  had  been  well  educated  in 
the  manner  of  his  time,  having  been,  with  his  elder  brother, 
under  the  care  of  an  excellent  tutor  for  a  number  of  years, 
two  of  which,  at  least,  were  passed  in  Germany.  After 
his  brother  entered  the  army,  Alexander  and  his  tutor 
joined  the  household  of  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld  and 
there  studied  with  the  latter's  nephews.  In  this  aristocratic 
atmosphere  he  imbibed  all  the  new  liberal  ideas  of  the 
day;  he  learned,  at  the  same  time,  the  graces  of  the  most 
exquisite  French  society  and  the  philosophy  of  Rousseau. 
Alexander  was  seventeen  years  old  when  his  education  was 
pronounced  finished,  and  a  search  was  made  for  a  place  for 
him  suitable  to  his  birth,  his  relations,  and  his  ambition. 
Thanks,  largely,  to  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  he  was 
made  a  lieutenant  in  the  army. 

No  sooner  was  his  position  in  the  world  fixed,  than  Mme. 
Renaudin  made  up  her  mind  that  he  must  marry  one  of  her 
nieces  in  Martinique.  It  mattered  not  at  all  that  Alexander 
had  not  yet  thought  of  marriage.     Mme.   Renaudin  per-' 


suaded  him  it  would  be  a  good  thing — not  a  difficult  task 
for  her  since  at  marriage  the  youth  was  to  come  into  a  much 
larger  income  than  he  then  enjoyed.  Alexander  satisfied, 
she  soon  persuaded  his  father  to  write  to  M.  de  la  Pagerie. 
The  letter  shows  the  whole  situation : — **  My  children," 
wrote  M.  de  Beauharnais,  **  each  enjoy  an  annual  income  of 
40,000  livres  (about  $8,000).  Vou  are  free  to  give  me 
your  daughter  to  share  the  fortune  of  my  chevalier.  The 
respect  and  affection  he  has  for  Mme.  Renaudin  make  him 
eager  to  marry  one  of  her  nieces.  You  see  that  I  consent 
freely  to  his  wishes  by  asking  the  hand  of  your  second 
daughter,  whose  age  is  more  suited  to  his.  If  your  eldest 
daughter  (Josephine)  had  been  a  few  years  younger,  I 
certainly  should  have  preferred  her,  as  she  is  pictured  quite 
as  favorably  to  me  as  the  other;  but  my  son,  who  is  only 
seventeen  and  a  half,  thinks  that  a  young  lady  of  fifteen  is 
too  near  his  own  age.** 

Now,  just  before  this  letter  reached  Martinique,  the  second 
daughter  of  M.  de  la  Pagerie  had  died  of  fever.  The  chance 
was  not  to  be  missed,  however,  and  the  father  hastened  to 
write  to  M.  de  Beauharnais  that  he  might  have  either  of 
the  two  daughters  remaining ;  Josephine  or  Marie,  the  latter 
then  a  child  of  between  eleven  and  twelve  years.  From  the 
long  correspondence  which  followed,  one  gathers  that  it  is 
the  elders  in  the  transaction  who  really  count.  Alexander 
is  resigned,  little  Marie  absolutely  refuses  to  leave  her 
mother,  and  Josephine,  of  whom  little  is  said,  seems  to  be 
willing,  even  eager  for  the  adventure.  The  upshot  of  it 
w^as  that,  in  October,  1779,  M.  de  la  Pagerie  sailed  for 
France  with  Josephine.  He  arrived  at  Brest  in  November, 
worn  out  by  the  passage,  and  there  his  sister,  Mme.  Renau- 
din, came  with  Alexander  to  meet  them.  If  the  first  im- 
pression of  his  fiancee  did  not  arouse  any  enthusiasm  in 
Alexander,  it  at  least  offered  no  reason  for  breaking  the 


engagement.  **  She  is  not  so  pretty  as  I  expected/'  he  wrote 
to  his  father ;  "  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the  frankness  and 
sweetness  of  her  character  are  beyond  anything  we  have 
been  told/' 

From  Brest  the  Httle  party  travelled  together  to  Paris, 
where  the  marriage  took  place  on  December  12.  The 
young  pair  at  once  went  to  live  with  the  Marquis  de  Beau- 
harnais,  and  that  winter  Josephine  was  introduced  into  the 
brilliant  society  of  the  capital.  She  seems  to  have  made  but 
a  poor  impression,  for  in  spite  of  the  20,000  livres  that  Mme. 
Renaudin  had  spent  on  her  trousseau,  she  had  after  all  a 
provincial  air  which  irritated  her  husband,  accustomed  as 
he  was  to  the  ease  and  elegance  of  aristocratic  Paris.  What 
was  worse  in  his  eyes,  she  seemed  to  have  no  desire  to  im- 
prove herself  on  the  models  he  laid  down.  Poor  little 
Josephine  had  no  head  for  the  exaggerated  sentiment,  the 
fine  speculations,  and  the  chatter  about  liberty,  nature  and 
the  social  contract  which  flowed  so  glibly  from  every  French 
tongue  in  those  days.  She  loved  pretty  gowns  and  jewels 
and  childish  amusements;  above  all,  she  demanded  to  be 
loved  exclusively  and  passionately  by  her  handsome  young 
husband.  When  he  scolded  her,  she  cried,  and  when  he 
devoted  himself  to  brighter  women,  she  was  jealous;  and  so 
before  the  first  six  months  of  their  married  life  was  over, 
Josephine  was  seeing  many  unhappy  hours,  and  the  Vis- 
count gladly  left  her  behind  when  he  was  called  to  his  regi- 
ment. Nevertheless,  in  his  absence,  he  wrote  her  long 
letters,  largely  of  advice  on  what  she  should  study,  and  took 
pains  to  laugh  at  her  jealousy  and  her  complaints.  The 
birth  of  their  first  child,  in  September,  1781,  a  boy,  who  re- 
ceived the  name  of  Eugene,  did  little  to  restore  peace  be- 
tween the  two.  The  Viscount  continued  to  spend  much  time 
away  from  Paris,  either  with  his  regiment  or  in  travel,  and 
when  at  home,  he  did  not  always  share  his  pleasures  with 


his  wife.  The  tactics  with  which  Josephine  met  his  rest- 
lessness and  his  indifference  were  the  worst  possible  to  be 
used  on  a  man  whose  passion  was  for  ideas,  for  elevated 
sentiments,  for  bold  and  brilliant  actions — she  was  amiable 
and  indolent  as  a  kitten  until  a  new  neglect  came,  and  then 
she  gave  up  to  a  continuous  weeping. 

One  reason,  no  doubt,  of  the  restlessness  of  Beauharnais 
was  his  failure  to  advance  in  his  profession  as  fast  as 
he  desired.  He  had  been  made  a  captain,  but  he  wished  for 
a  regiment;  and  when  late  in  1782  a  descent  of  the  English 
on  Martinique  threatened,  he  enlisted  for  service  there. 
Peace  was  made  between  France  and  England  before  he  had 
an  opportunity  to  distinguish  himself,  but  he  remained  in 
Martinique  some  time.  He  had  fallen  in  love  there;  and 
unhappily  his  new  mistress  had  persuaded  him  that 
Josephine  had  had  love  affairs  of  her  own  before  she  left 
Martinique  to  marry  him.  There  was  never  any  proof  of 
the  truth  of  any  of  the  stories  she  retailed  to  him ;  but  Beau- 
harnais was  glad  to  have  a  reason  for  deserting  his  wife, 
and  he  wrote  her  a  brutal  letter,  in  which  he  justified  his  de- 
mand for  a  divorce  by  the  righteous  indignation  which  had 
seized  him  when  he  heard  of  her  follies.  The  letter  reached 
Josephine  in  the  summer  of  1783.  In  the  April  before,  she 
had  given  birth  to  a  daughter,  christened  Hortense- Eugenie. 
It  was  the  first  word  she  had  received  from  her  husband 
since  her  confinement. 

Beauharnais  reached  Paris  in  October  (his  mistress  had 
preceded  him)  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  his  family  and 
friends,  all  of  whom  took  Josephine's  part,  he  secured  a 
separation.  She,  however,  received  from  the  courts  the 
fullest  reparation  possible,  considering  the  Viscount's  means 
— a  pension  for  herself  and  the  children ;  the  custody  of  Eu- 
gene, until  he  was  five  years  old,  and  permanent  possession 
of  Hortense. 


Josephine  now  went  to  live  at  the  Abbey  de  Panthe- 
mont,  a  refuge  for  women  of  the  French  nobility  who  had 
suffered  in  one  way  or  another.  Here  her  youth,  beauty, 
sweetness  of  disposition,  and  her  misfortune  made  her  a 
favorite  with  many  a  noble  dame;  and  she  soon  learned  in 
this  atmosphere  more  of  the  ways  of  aristocratic  society  than 
she  had  learned  in  all  her  previous  married  life. 

After  nearly  a  year  in  the  Abbey,  Josephine  returned  to 
her  father-in-law,  who  was  living  at  Fontainebleau.  The  life 
she  here  took  up  pleased  her  very  well.  She  had  an  in- 
come for  herself  and  children  of  something  over  $2,000  a 
year,  she  was  free,  she  knew  many  amusing  people, 
she  had  admirers,  many  say,  lovers, — we  should  be  sur- 
prised more  if  she  had  not  had  them  than  if  she  had,  it  was 
the  way  of  her  world.  She  was  devoted  to  her  children,  she 
cared  for  the  Marquis  de  Beauharnais  and  Mme.  Renaudin 
in  their  illnesses,  and  she  corresponded  regularly  with  her 
husband — whom  she  never  saw — concerning  their  children. 
In  1788,  she  broke  the  monotony  of  her  life  by  a  trip  to 
Martinique,  taking  Hortense  with  her.  She  remained  some 
two  years  in  the  island — a  sad  two  years,  for  both  her  father 
and  her  sister  were  very  ill  at  the  time,  and  both  died  soon 
after  her  return  to  Paris,  in  the  fall  of  1790. 





WHEN  Josephine  returned  to  Paris  in  1790,  she 
found  tlie  city  in  full  revolution.  In  the  two 
years  she  had  been  gone  the  States  Generals  had 
met,  the  Bastile  had  fallen,  the  National  Assembly  had  be- 
gun to  make  France  over.  In  the  front  of  all  this  activity 
moved  her  husband,  Viscount  de  Beauharnais.  Like  his 
patron,  the  Duke  de  la  Rouchefoucauld,  Beauharnais  was 
an  ardent  advocate  of  liberty  and  ecjuality.  Sent  to  the 
States  General  by  his  friends  at  Blois,  he  had  joined  the 
few  noblemen  there  who  in  1789  espoused  the  cause  of  the 
Revolution,  and  soon  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  faction. 
Later  he  was  sent  to  the  National  Assembly,  where  he  took 
an  active  part  in  framing  the  constitution.  He  was  a  power 
even  in  the  Jacobin  Society. 

At  this  date  the  revolution  was  still  the  fashion  among  the 
elegant  in  Paris,  and  the  Viscount  really  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  and  influential  young  noblemen  in  the  town.  His 
success,  the  ardor  with  which  he  preached  the  fine  theories 
of  the  day,  perhaps  a  growing  realization  that  his  treatment 
of  his  wife  was  too  baldly  inconsistent  with  his  profes- 
sion, softened  the  Viscount's  heart  towards  Josephine,  and 
when  she  returned  he  went  to  see  her.  A  kind  of  recon- 
ciliation followed.  They  continued  to  live  apart,  but  they 
saw  each  other  constantly  in  society.  The  Viscount  no 
doubt  was  the  more  w^ilHng  to  sustain  the  relation  of  a  good 



friend  and  advisor  to  his  wife,  when  he  saw  that  in  the  yeacs 
since  their  separation  she  had  developed  into  a  most  charm- 
ing woman  of  the  world,  and  that  her  beauty,  grace,  tact,  and 
readiness  to  oblige  had  won  her  a  large  circle  of  friends,  in- 
cluding many  in  that  aristocratic  circle  of  which  he  vaunted 
himself  on  being  a  member.  This  good  understanding  with 
Beauharnais  did  much  for  Josephine's  peace  of  mind.  It 
was  in  a  way  a  victory,  and  her  friends  congratulated  her. 
At  the  same  time  any  honors  which  came  to  the  Viscount  re- 
flected on  her,  and  she  steadily  became  more  noticed. 

In  June,  1791,  Beauharnais  was  elected  president  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly.  A  few  days  later,  the  King  and 
Queen  fled  to  Varennes.  As  the  head  of  the  Assembly,  the 
Viscount  was  the  leader  of  France  for  the  time.  It  was  he 
who  sat  for  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  and  one-half  con- 
secutive hours  on  the  bench  during  the  violent  session  which 
followed  the  Kings  flight;  it  was  he  who  questioned  the 
captured  King,  when  he  was  returned,  and  directed  the  dis- 
tracted proceedings  which  followed.  Indeed,  until  the  dis- 
solution of  the  body  in  September,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
prominent  men  in  France. 

Josephine  had  her  share  of  his  glory,  and  in  these  months 
added  largely  to  her  circle  of  acquaintances  from  the  motley 
crowd  which  the  levelling  of  things  had  brought  together 
in  French  society.  She  met  many  of  the  aristocrats  un- 
known to  her  until  then;  but  what  was  vastly  more  im- 
portant, she  made  acquaintances  among  the  **  true  patriots  ", 
those  who  had  been  born  in  the  third  estate,  and  who  were 
already  beginning  to  consider  themselves  the  only  part  of 
the  population  fit  to  conduct  the  general  regeneration  of 
France.  In  1792,  war  breaking  out,  Beauharnais  went  to 
the  front,  where  he  made  a  respectable  record,  which  he 
himself  reported  frequently  to  the  Assembly  in  glowing 
letters,  filled  with  good  advice  to  that  body.  He  was  steadily 


advanced  until,  in  May,  1793,  he  was  made  general-in-chief 
of  the  Army  of  the  North.  During  all  this  period  Josephine 
was  in  Paris  or  the  vicinity,  and  there  were  few  more  active 
women  there  than  she.  Whether  advised  by  her  husband  or 
not  she  had  the  wit  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  men 
of  each  new  party  as  fast  as  it  came  into  power.  Thus, 
when  the  Girondins  were  at  the  helm  in  1792,  she  hastened 
to  interview  them  one  by  one.  to  demonstrate  to  them  her 
devotion  to  the  new  civism,'to  extol  the  patriotism  of  her 
husband,  General  de  Beauharnais.  The  acquaintance  made, 
she  immediately  had  a  favor  to  ask — this  friend  was  in 
prison,  that  one  wanted  a  passport.  All  through  the  agitated 
winter  of  1792  and  1793  Josephine  was  busy  getting  her 
friends  out  of  prison  and  out  of  France.  She  seems  to  have 
had  no  fear  for  herself.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  men 
who  helped  her  were  so  convinced  of  her  simple  goodness  of 
heart  that  they  granted  her  much  which  would  have  been 
denied  a  more  intelligent  woman,  and  they  did  not  question 
her  loyalty.  Was  she  not,  too,  the  wife  of  General  de 
Beauharnais?  That  fact  did  not,  however,  hold  value  for 
many  months.  Beauharnais's  conduct  came  into  question 
before  the  Assembly;  he  resigned,  offering  to  go  into  the 
line.  The  privilege  was  denied  him,  and  he  was  retired  from 
the  army.  He  went  at  once  to  his  family  home  near  Blois, 
and  threw  himself  actively  into  the  work  of  the  municipality 
and  of  the  Jacobins.  Josephine,  warned  of  possible  danger 
from  her  husband's  downfall  and  fearing  the  new  law 
against  the  suspected,  decided  to  leave  Paris.  She  rented, 
in  the  winter,  a  little  house  at  Croissy,  not  far  out  of  the 
city,  and  near  many  of  her  friends,  and  there  lived  as  quietly 
as  she  could.  One  method  that  she  took  of  showing  her  de- 
votion to  democratic  principles  was  to  bind  Eugene,  who 
had  been  in  school  for  several  years,  as  an  apprentice  to  a 


carpenter;  and  it  is  said  that  Hortense  was  placed  with  a 
dressmaker  to  learn  the  trade. 

The  Viscount  escaped  arrest  until  the  spring  of  1794; 
then  the  committee  of  Public  Safety  remembered  him. 
There  seems  to  have  been  no  reason  for  his  arrest  other  than 
that  he  was  a  noble — certainly  no  man  in  France  had  sur- 
passed him  in  vehement  republicanism  or  had  been  more 
fertile  in  schemes  for  saving  the  country.  He  was  taken 
immediately  to  Paris,  and  confined  in  the  prison  of  les 
Carmes.  A  month  later,  Josephine  followed  him.  Her 
activity  for  her  friends  had  continued  after  the  retirement 
of  her  husband  and  the  eflforts  she  began  at  once  to  make  to 
save  him  when  he  was  arrested,  caused  a  virtuous  patriot 
to  suggest  anonymously  to  the  authorities  that  she  too 
ought  to  be  looked  after.     She  was  promptly  arrested. 

For  three  months  husband  and  wife  lived  side  by  side  in 
that  awful  prison,  the  walls  of  which  still  bore  the  red  im- 
prints made  in  the  September  massacre,  and  in  garden  of 
which  blood  still  oozed,  it  was  believed,  from  the  roots  of  the 
tree  where  murdered  men  had  been  stacked  up  by  the  score. 
With  them  were  confined  men  from  every  rank  of  life, 
princes,  merchants,  sailors,  chimney-sweeps,  along  with 
women  and  children.  Almost  daily  a  group  was  called  to 
die,  but  their  places  were  quickly  filled.  The  awful  tragedy 
of  their  lot  drew  Josephine  and  her  husband  no  closer  to- 
gether. It  is  a  terrible  comment  on  the  times  that  no  one 
thought  it  strange  that  Beauharnais  should  have  paid  court 
here  at  the  gate  of  death  to  a  beautiful  woman,  a  prisoner 
like  himself,  or  that  Josephine  should  have  been  so  intimate 
with  General  Hoche,  also  a  prisoner,  that  history  has  made  a 
record  of  the  fact. 

Many  eflforts  were  made  to  save  the  Viscount  and  his 
wife,  chiefly  under  their  direction,  for  they  were  allowed 


to  see  their  friends,  and  also  their  children.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  certain  petitions  in  their  favor  which  have 
been  found  in  the  French  archives,  bearing  the  names  of 
Eugene  and  Hortense,  were  dictated  l)v  the  Viscount  him- 
self. But  every  effort  was  useless,  and  on  July  21  Beauhar- 
nais  was  taken  to  the  Conciergerie :  the  next  day  he  was 
tried;  the  next  guillotined.  To  the  end  he  was  brave  and 
self-controlled.  In  his  final  words  to  Josephine,  he  even 
charged  his  death  to  the  plots  of  the  aristocrats,  upholding 
the  republic  even  as  it  struck  him. 

None  of  the  Viscount  de  Beauharnais's  courage  was 
shared  by  Josephine  in  her  imprisonment.  It  is  true  that  the 
majority  of  the  women  who  suffered  death  in  the  French 
Revolution  faced  it  bravely.  Jose])liine  was  not  of  their 
blood.  From  the  beginning  of  her  imprisonment,  she  wept 
continually  before  everybody,  and  her  favorite  occupation 
was  reading  her  fortune  with  cards ;  and  yet  cowardly  as 
she  was,  no  one  was  better  loved.  There  was  reason  enough 
for  this.  No  one  was  kinder,  no  one  more  willing  to  do  a 
service,  no  one  had  been  more  active  for  others  than  she, 
when  at  liberty.  All  the  goodwill  of  the  prison  came  out  in 
full  when,  on  August  6,  less  than  a  fortnight  after  her  hus- 
band's death,  she  was  set  free.  There  was  as  general  re- 
joicing as  there  would  have  1  een  over  the  release  of  a  child. 

It  is  not  certain  through  whose  influence  Josephine  ob- 
tained her  freedom.  Mme.  Tallien  has  generally  been 
credited  with  securing  it,  but  Masson  in  his  delving 
has  found  dates  which  make  it  improbable  that  the  legend 
current  can  be  true.  According  to  this,  Mme.  Tallien  (then 
Mme.  de  Fontenay)  and  Josephine  were  fellow-prisoners, 
and  it  was  at  les  Carmes  that  their  friendship  began. 
However,  the  prison  records  show  that  Mme.  Tallien  was 
never  confined  at  les  Carmes,  but  at  la  Petite  Force;    so 


that  a  part  at  least  of  the  legend  is  impossible.  That  she 
may  have  interested  herself  in  Josephine's  behalf  is  quite 
possible,  even  probable.  She  may  have  known  Mme.  de 
Beauharnais  before  her  imprisonment.  It  is  well  known 
that,  as  soon  as  she  received  her  own  freedom  she  became  an 
ardent  advocate  of  that  clemency  which  was  made  possible 
by  the  fall  of  Robespierre  on  the  ninth  Thermidor  and  that 
she  rescued  many  persons.  She  may  very  well  have  in- 
cluded Josephine  among  the  first  of  those  she  sought  to 
save.  Her  task  in  this  case  would  not  have  been  difficult, 
for  Josephine  was  know-n  to  most  of  the  members  of  the 
Terrorist  Government  and  was  probably  on  terms  of  in- 
timacy with  some  of  them.  At  all  events,  Josephine  was  set 
free  on  August  6,  and  she  immediately  went  to  Croissy  to 
pass  the  autumn. 

The  problems  which  now  confronted  Josephine  were  se- 
rious enough  for  the  most  practical  and  resourceful  of 
women.  The  chaos  in  French  business  affairs  made  it  very 
difficult  for  her  to  get  her  hand  on  money  coming  to  her. 
Her  husband's  property  was  tied  up  by  his  death  so  that 
she  could  realize  nothing  from  it,  and  the  value  of  what 
she  did  secure  of  her  income  must  have  been  sadly  reduced 
by  the  general  dei)reciation  which  had  resulted  from  the 
Reign  of  Terror  and  from  the  war,  and  by  the  exorbitant 
l)rices  of  even  the  commonest  necessaries  of  life — bread  at 
this  time  was  over  twenty  francs  a  pound.  Her  situation 
was  still  more  difficult  because  the  personal  property  of  her-, 
self,  her  children,  and  husband  was  all  in  the  hands  of  the 
authorities.  She  had  no  linen,  furniture,  silver,  clothing, 
nothing  needful  in  her  daily  life.  To  keep  house  in  thesim- 
l)lest  way,  she  had  to  beg  and  borrow,  and  it  w^as  many 
months  before  she  was  able  to  secure  her  own  articles  of 
clothing  and  her  household  furniture. 


With  two  children  to  care  for  and  with  a  town  apartment 
and  a  country  cottage  on  her  hands,  she  was  in  a  very  dif- 
ficult position. 

That  Josephine  was  able  to  keep  her  homes,  care  for  her 
children,  and  retain  her  position  in  the  society  of  the  Direc- 
tory was  due  to  the  friendship  and  protection  of  two  men, 
Hoche  and  Barras.  Hoche  had  been  liberated  from  les 
Carmes  before  Josephine,  and  put  in  charge  of  an  army,  and 
he  at  once  took  Eugene  on  his  staff,  thus  freeing  Josephine's 
mind  of  that  care.  For  a  few  months  she  managed  by 
diligent  borrowing  and  mortgaging  to  keep  things  going. 
In  all  of  her  efforts  to  re])air  her  fortune  and  secure  to  her 
children  the  estate  of  Beauharnais,  she  enlisted  her  friends, 
especially  Mme.  Tallien,  who  just  then  was  at  the  height 
of  her  power.  The  two  l)ecanie  very  intimate,  and  the  Vis- 
countess de  Beauharnais  was  soon  one  of  the  women 
oftenest  seen  at  the  functions  given  by  the  members  of  the 
Directory  as  well  as  at  all  the  more  intimate  gatherings  of 
that  society.  She  became  as  great  a  favorite  among  the  dis- 
sipated and  prodigal  company  as  she  had  been  among  the 
aristocratic  ladies  of  the  Abbev  de  Panthemont  or  in  the 
motley  company  at  les  Carmes.  It  was  to  be  expected  that 
she  could  not  long  be  an  intimate  of  Mme.  Tallien's  salon 
without  finding  a  protector.  She  found  him  in  Barras,  a 
member  of  the  Directory,  its  most  influential  member  in 
fact,  a  prince  of  corruption,  but  a  man  of  elegance,  and 

It  is  probable  that  the  liaison  with  Barras  began  in  1795, 
for  in  August  of  that  year  Josephine  took  a  little  house  in 
Paris,  furnishing  it  largely  from  the  apartment  in  town 
which  she  had  kept  so  long.  She  put  Hortense  in  Mme. 
Campan*s  school,  and  taking  Eugene  from  Hoche  sent  him 
to  college.  She  entertained  constantly  in  her  new  home, 
and  once  a  week  at  least  received  Barras  and  his  friends  at 


her  country  place  at  Croissy.  It  was  an  open  secret  that  the 
money  for  all  this  was  supplied  by  Barras. 

Although  Barras  was  himself  notoriously  corrupt,  he  was 
a  man  of  elegant  and  highly  cultivated  tastes,  and  he  always 
made  strenuous  efforts  to  keep  his  inner  circle  exclusive.  He 
wished  only  persons  of  wit,  elegance,  and  ease  about  him, 
when  he  was  at  leisure,  and  as  a  rule  he  allowed  no  others. 
Now  and  then,  however,  the  necessities  of  politics 
brought  into  his  house  a  man  unused  either  to  its  polite  re- 
finements or  its  elegant  dissipations.  Such  a  man  was  ad- 
mitted in  the  fall  of  1795 — a  young  Corsican,  a  member 
of  the  army  who  had  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of 
Toulon,  and  who  had  recently  put  Barras  and  the  whole 
government,  in  fact,  under  obligations.  The  man's  name 
was  Bonaparte — Napoleon  Bonaparte.  He  had  come  to 
Paris  in  the  spring  of  1795,  under  orders  to  join  the  West- 
ern Army,  but  had  fallen  into  disgrace  because  he  refused 
to  obey.  He  succeeded,  however,  through  Barras,  who  had 
known  him  at  Toulon,  in  making  an  impression  at  the  War 
Office.  He  was  more  than  an  ordinary  man,  the  authorities 
who  listened  to  his  talk  and  examined  his  plans  of  campaign 
said.  A  chance  came  in  October  to  try  his  metal  as  a  com- 
manding officer.  The  sections  of  Paris,  dissatisfied  with 
the  Convention,  had  planned  an  attack  for  a  certain  night. 
The  Committee  of  Defence  asked  Bonaparte  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  guard  which  was  to  defend  the  Tuileries,  where 
the  Convention  sat.  The  result  was  a  quick  and  eflfectual 
repulse  of  the  attack  of  the  sections,  and  Bonaparte  was 
rewarded  the  next  day  by  being  made  a  general-of-division. 

One  of  the  first  acts  to  follow  the  attack  on  the  Con- 
vention was  a  law  ordering  that  all  citizens  should  be  cHs- 
armed.  Now,  Josephine  had  in  her  apartment  the  sword 
of  General  de  Beauharnais,  and  in  ol>edience  to  the  new  law 
she  at  once  carried  it  to  the  proper  authority.     Eugene, 


knowing  lier  intention,  liastened  tliere  too,  and  passionately 
protested  against  his  father's  sword  being  given  up.  He 
would  die  first,  he  declared,  with  boyish  vehemence.  His 
youth  (he  was  but  fourteen),  his  genuine  emotion  touched 
the  commissioner,  who  hesitated  and  finally  said  that 
Eugene  might  go.  to  the  general  in  charge  of  the  section, 
the  newly  made  General  Bonaparte,  and  present  his  petition. 
The  boy  hastened  to  the  General,  and  with  shining  eyes  and 
trembling  lips,  begged  that  his  father's  sword  might  be  re- 
turned. Bonaparte,  moved  by  the  lad's  earnestness  and 
agitation,  ordered  that  his  request  be  granted.  Mme.  de 
Beauharnais,  on  hearing  the  story  from  Eugene,  went 
to  the  General's  office  to  thank  him.  The  interview  ended 
by  her  inviting  him  to  call  upon  her.  It  is  probable  that 
Barras  had  felt  it  wise  to  admit  Bonaparte  to  his  inner  circle 
at  about  this  time,  and  before  long  the  young  general  was 
on  good  terms  with  the  entire  society. 

At  the  time  when  Bona])arte  began  to  frecjuent  the  houses 
of  Barras  and  Josephine  lie  was,  beside  most  of  the  men  and 
women  he  met  there — certainly  beside  Barras  and  Josephine 
— a  paragon  of  virtue.  They  were  disciples  of  pleasure;  he 
of  the  strenuous  life.  Up  to  this  time  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  had  never  invited  him.  He  had  looked  on  them  as  a 
young  philosopher  might,  l)cnt  on  seeing  and  understanding 
all,  but  he  had  never  sought  them,  never  been  allured  by 
them.  To  make  a  i)lace  and  name  for  himself  was  all  that 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  up  to  this  time,  had  desired. 

Not  only  did  he  here,  for  the  first  time,  come  into  a  circle 
which  cultivated  pleasure  as  an  end ;  but  here,  for  the  first 
time,  he  saw  the  refinements,  the  luxury,  the  delights  of 
highly  developed  society.  Beautiful,  graceful,  and  witty 
women  he  had  never  known  before;  he  had  never  set  foot 
before  in  rooms  such  as  these  in  which  he  found  Josephine, 
Mme.  Tallien,  and  Barras.     Dinners  like  these  they  oflfered 


him  were  an  amazement.  Not  only  was  he  astonished  by 
his  surroundings,  he  was  intoxicated  by  the  attention  he 
received.  That  Josephine,  who  seemed  to  him  the  perfect 
type  of  the  grande  dame,  should  invite  him  to  her  home, 
write  him  flattering  little  notes  when  his  visits  were  de- 
layed, admire  his  courage,  listen  to  his  impetuous  talk, 
prophesy  a  great  future  for  him,  excited  his  imagination  and 
hope  as  nothing  ever  had  before.  A  month  had  not  passed 
before  he  was  paying  her  an  impassioned  court.  That  she 
was  six  vears  his  senior  and  a  widow  with  two  children; 
that  she  had  no  certain  income  and  was  of  another  rank; 
that  he  had  nothing  but  his  **  cloak  and  sword  ''  and  was 
hardly  started  in  his  career,  though  with  a  mother  and 
several  brothers  and  sisters  looking  to  him  to  see  them 
through  life — these  and  all  other  practical  considerations 
seem  to  have  been  thrust  aside.  He  loved  Josephine  and 
meant  to  marry  her.  All  through  the  fall  and  winter  of 
1795  and  1796  he  was  at  her  side  pressing  his  suit. 

But  Josephine,  though  pleased  by  Napoleon's  devotion, 
and  certainly  encouraging  him,  hesitated.  Certainly  mar- 
riage with  the  young  Corsican  was  a  venture  at  which  a 
more  courageous  woman  than  she  might  have  hesitated, 
and  she,  poor  woman,  had  had  enough  of  ventures.  Every 
one  so  far  had  ended  in  disaster — her  marriage  had  ended 
in  separation,  her  reconciliation  with  her  husband  in  his 
death,  her  property  had  been  lost  in  a  revolution.  All  she 
asked  of  life  was  an  opportunity  to  settle  Eugene  and  Hor- 
tense,  and  freedom  and  money  enough  to  be  gay.  Could  she 
expect  this  from  a  marriage  with  Bonaparte?  She  herself 
analyzed  her  feelings  admirably  in  a  letter  to  a  friend : 

I  am  urged,  my  dear,  to  marry  again  by  the  advice  of  all  my  friends 
(I  may  almost  say),  by  the  commands  of  my  aunt,  and  the  prayers  of 
my  children.  Why  are  you  not  here  to  help  me  by  your  advice  on  this 
important  occasion,  and  to  tell  me  whether  I  ought  or  ought  not  to  con- 


sent  to  a  union,  which  certainly  seems  calculated  to  relieve  me  from 
the  discomfort  of  my  present  situation?  Your  friendship  would  render 
you  clear-sighted  to  my  interests,  and  a  word  from  you  would  suffice 
to  bring  me  to  a  decision. 

Among  my  visitors  you  have  seen  General  Bonaparte;  he  is  the  man 
who  wishes  to  become  a  father  to  the  orphans  of  Alexander  de  Beau- 
hamais  and  a  husband  to  his  widow. 

"  Do  you  love  him?  "  is  naturally  your  first  question. 

My  answer  is,  '*  perhaps — No." 

**  Do  you  dislike  him?  ' 

**  No,"  again ;  but  the  sentiments  I  entertain  towards  him  are  of  that 
lukewarm  kind  which  true  devotees  think  worst  of  all  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion. Now,  love  being  a  sort  of  religion,  my  feelings  ought  to  be  very 
different  from  what  they  really  are.  This  is  the  point  on  which  I  want 
your  advice,  which  would  fix  the  wavering  of  my  irresolute  disposition. 
To  come  to  a  decision  has  always  been  too  much  for  my  Creole  inert- 
ness, and  I  find  it  easier  to  obey  the  wishes  of  others. 

I  admire  the  General's  courage;  the  extent  of  his  information  on  every 
subject  on  which  he  converses;  his  shrewd  intelligence,  which  enables 
him  to  understand  the  thoughts  of  others  before  they  are  expressed; 
but  I  confess  I  am  somewhat  fearful  of  that  control  which  he  seems 
anxious  to  exercise  over  all  about  him.  There  is  something  in  his 
scrutinizing  glance  that  cannot  be  described ;  it  awes  even  our  directors, 
therefore  it  may  well  be  supposed  to  intimidate  a  woman.  He  talks  of 
his  passion  for  me  with  a  degree  of  earnestness  which  renders  it  im- 
possible to  doubt  his  sincerity;  yet  this  very  circumstance,  which  you 
would  suppose  likely  to  please  me.  is  precisely  that  which  has  with- 
held me  from  giving  the  consent  which  I  have  often  been  on  the  very 
point  of  uttering. 

My  spring  of  life  is  past.  Can  I,  then,  hope  to  preserve  for  any 
length  of  time  that  ardor  of  affection  which  in  the  General  amounts 
almost  to  madness?  If  his  love  should  cool,  as  it  certainly  will,  after 
our  marriage,  will  he  not  reproach  me  for  having  prevented  him  from 
forming  a  more  advantageous  connection?  What.  then,  shall  I  say? 
What  shall  I  do?  I  may  shut  myself  up  and  weep.  Fine  consolation, 
truly !  methinks  I  hear  you  say.  But  unavailing  as  I  know  it  is,  weeping 
is.  I  assure  you,  my  only  consolation  whenever  my  poor  heart  receives 
a  wound.  Write  me  quick,  and  pray  scold  me  if  you  think  me  wrong. 
You  know  everything  is  welcome  that  comes  from  you. 

Barras  assures  me  if  I  marry  the  General,  he  will  get  him  appointed 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  Italy.  This  favor,  though  not  yet 
granted,  occasions  some  murmuring  among  Bonaparte's  brother  officers. 
When  speaking  to  me  yesterday  on  the  subject,  the  General  said. — 

"  Do  they  think  I  cannot  get  forward  without  their  patronage.    One 


day  or  other  they  will  all  be  too  happy  if  I  grant  them  mine.    I  have 
a  good  sword  by  my  side,  which  will  carry  me  on." 

What  do  you  think  of  this  self-confidence?  Does  it  not  savor  of 
excessive  vanity?  A  general  of  brigade  to  talk  of  patronizing  the  chiefs 
of  the  Government  ?  It  is  very  ridiculous !  Yet  I  know  not  how  it  hap- 
pens, his  ambitious  spirit  sometimes  wins  upon  me  so  far  that  I  am 
almost  tempted  to  believe  in  the  practicability  of  any  project  he  takes  into 
his  head — and  who  can  foresee  what  he  may  attempt? 

It  is  probable  that,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Barras,  Josephine 
would  not  have  consented,  for  many  of  her  friends  advised 
against  the  marriage.  Barras  urged  it,  however.  He  says 
in  explanation,  with  the  brutal  frankness  for  which  his  me- 
moirs are  distinguished,  that  he  was  '*  tired  and  bored  "  with 
her.  She,  no  doubt,  felt  that  Barras's  protection  was  un- 
certain and  that  it  would  be  better  for  her  not  to  oflfend  him. 

At  last  Barras  and  Bonaparte  between  them  overcame  Jo- 
sephine's indecision,  and  on  March  8,  1796,  the  marriage 
contract  was  signed.  Barras  and  Tallien  were  the  two  chief 
witnesses  at  the  civil  ceremony  which  took  place  the  next 
day.     The  religious  marriage  was  dispensed  with. 




JUST  a  week  before  the  marriage  of  Napoleon  with 
Josephine  he  liad  been  appointed  general-in-chief  of 
the  Army  of  Italy,  and  two  days  after  the  marriage 
he  left  for  his  command.  Josephine  remained  in  Paris,  at 
her  home  in  the  Rue  Chantereine,  a  little  relieved,  probably, 
at  the  dei)arture  of  her  tempestuous  lover.  Certainly  she 
was  not  sufficiently  in  love  to  be  able  to  keep  pace  with  the 
ardent  letters  which  he  sent  her  from  every  post  on  his  route. 
She  read  them,  to  be  sure ;  even  showed  them  to  her  friends, 
pronouncing  them  drolc:  but  her  answers  equalled  them 
neither  in  number  nor  in  warmth.  Napoleon's  suffering 
and  reproaches  and  prayers  disturbed  her  peace.  She  could 
not  love  like  this.  Soon  he  began  to  beg  her  to  come  to  Italy. 
The  campaign  was  well  started :  he  was  winning  victories. 
There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  join  him;  or  come 
at  least  to  Nice — to  Milan.  "  Vou  will  come/'  he  begs, 
**  and  quick.  If  you  hesitate,  if  you  delay,  you  w^ill  find  me 
ill.  Fatigue  and  your  absence  are  too  much  for  me.  .  .  . 
Take  wings,  come — come !  " 

But  Josephine  did  not  want  to  leave  Paris.  Particularly 
now  when  she  was  reaping  the  first  fruits  of  her  young 
husband's  glory  in  an  homage  such  as  she  had  never  known, 
but  of  which  there  is  no  doubt  she  had  dreamed  from  child- 



hood.  Napoleon's  victories  had  driven  the  Parisians  wild 
with  joy,  and  they  asked  nothing  better  than  to  adore  the 
wife  of  the  hero  of  the  campaign.  Scarcely  two  months, 
in  fact,  had  passed,  after  leaving  Paris  before  Napoleon 
sent  back,  by  his  brother  Joseph  and  his  aide  Junot,  twenty- 
one  flags  taken  from  the  enemy.  They  were  received  at  a 
public  session  of  the  Directory.  Josephine  was  present  with 
Mme.  Tallien,  and  when  the  two  beautiful  women,  ac- 
companied by  Junot,  left  the  Luxembourg,  where  the  pre- 
sentation had  taken  place,  there  was  such  a  demonstration  as 
Paris  had  not  seen  over  a  woman  in  many  a  day.  *'  Look," 
they  cried,  "  it  is  his  wnfe !  Isn't  she  beautiful !  Long  live 
General  Bonaparte!  Long  live  the  Citizeness  Bonaparte! 
Long  live  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires !  " 

New  triumphs  followed,  and  to  celebrate  them  there  was 
held  a  grand  fete  on  May  29.  There  were  balls  at  the  Lux- 
embourg, gala  nights  at  the  theaters.  And  everywhere 
Josephine,  the  wife  of  the  conquering  general,  was  queen. 
And  yet  almost  every  night,  when  she  returned  from  opera 
or  ball,  she  found  awaiting  her  a  passionate  appeal  from 
Bonaparte  to  come  to  Italy.  Several  weeks  she  put  him 
off,  she  pleaded  the  hardship  of  the  trip,  the  dangers  and 
discomforts  she  might  have  to  undergo  there,  a  hundred  ex- 
cuses ;  and  Bonaparte,  in  reply,  only  begged  the  more  fiercely 
that  she  come. 

At  last  she  could  resist  no  longer,  but  she  took  no  pains 
to  conceal  her  sorrow  at  going.  ''  Her  chagrin  was  ex- 
treme, when  she  saw  there  was  no  longer  any  way  of  es- 
caping,'' Arnault  says,  "  she  thought  more  of  what  she 
was  going  to  leave  than  what  she  was  going  to  find.  She 
would  have  given  the  palace  at  Milan  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  her,  she  would  have  given  all  the  palaces  of  the 
world,  for  her  house  in  the  Rue  Chantereine.  .  .  .  She 
started  for  Italy  from  the  Luxembourg,   where  she  had 


supped  with  some  friends.  Poor  woman,  she  burst  into 
tears  and  sobbed  as  if  she  was  going  to  punishment — she 
who  was  going  to  reign/' 

It  was  the  end  of  June  before  Josephine  arrived  in  Milan. 
The  palace  which  awaited  her  was  the  princely  home  of  the 
Duke  de  Serbelloni ; — the  society  the  choicest  of  Italy.  She 
at  once  found  herself  literally  living  like  a  princess.  Un- 
happily for  her,  however,  there  was  no  opportunity  to  re- 
main long  quietly  at  Milan  and  enjoy  the  pleasures  open  to 
her.  Bonaparte  was  in  active  campaign — unable  to  stay 
but  a  couple  of  days  after  her  arrival,  and  he  soon  began  to 
beg  that  she  join  him  in  the  field.  At  the  end  of  July,  she 
did  go  to  Brescia,  where  she  experienced  a  series  of  ex- 
citing adventures.  The  Austrians  were  pressing  close  on 
the  French^-closer  than  Napoleon  realized;  twice  he  and 
she  narrowly  escaped  capture  together ;  once  she  was  under 
fire.  Finally  Bonaparte  was  obliged  to  send  her,  by  way  of 
Bologne  and  Ferrara  to  Lucciues,  a  journey  that  she  made 
in  safety,  but  in  tears. 

Henceforth  Josephine  had  an  excellent  reason  for  not 
joining  her  husband  in  the  field.  And  Napoleon  did  not  ask 
her  to  do  so.  All  he  asked  now  was  letters,  letters,  letters. 
"  Your  health  and  your  face  are  never  out  of  my  mind.  I 
cannot  be  at  peace  until  your  letters  are  received.  I  wait 
them  impatiently.  You  cannot  conceive  my  unrest.*'  And 
again,  **  I  do  not  love  you  at  all ;  on  the  contrary,  I  detest 
you.  You  are  a  wretched,  awkward,  stupid  little  thing. 
You  do  not  write  me  any  more  at  all ;  you  do  not  love  your 
husband.  ,  You  know  the  pleasure  that  your  letters  give  me, 
and  yet  write  me  not  more  than  six  lines  and  that  by  chance. 
What  are  you  doing  all  day  long,  Madame  ?  But  seriously,  I 
am  very  much  disturbed,  my  dear,  at  not  hearing  from  you. 
Write  me  four  pages  quickly  of  those  kind  of  things  which 
fill  my  heart  with  pleasure."     A  few  days  later  he  writes. 


"  No  letters  from  you.  Truly  that  disturbs  me.  I  am  told 
you  are  well  and  that  you  have  even  been  to  Lake  Como. 
I  look  impatiently  every  day  for  the  courier  who  will  bring 
me  news  of  you."  And  again,  **  I  write  you  very  often,  my 
dear,  and  you  write  me  so  rarely."  And  so  it  went  on 
through  the  entire  summer  and  fall  of  1796.  While  she  re- 
ceived at  Milan  the  honors  due  the  wife  of  a  conqueror 
who  held  the  fate  of  states  in  his  hands,  he  in  the  field  ex- 
hausted himself  in  a  frenzied  struggle  for  victory — not  vic- 
tory for  himself,  so  he  told  Josephine,  and  so  for  a  time,  per- 
haps, he  persuaded  himself;  but  victory  because  it  pleased 
her  that  he  win  it ;  honor  because  she  set  store  by  it ;  other- 
w^ise,  said  he,  "  I  should  leave  all  to  throw  myself  at  your 

All  this  impetuous  passion  wearied  Josephine  more  and 
more.  No  response  was  awakened  in  her  heart.  That  she 
was  proud  of  his  love,  there  is  no  doubt.  She  told  every- 
body of  his  devotion,  as  well  she  might :  it  was  her  passport 
to  power.  But  she  could  not  answer  it  in  kind,  and  she 
found  excuses  for  her  neglect  in  her  health,  which  was  not 
good  at  this  time,  and  in  the  social  requirements  of  her 
brilliant  and  conspicuous  position,  and  frequently,  too,  in 
the  fact  that  the  life  at  Milan,  gay  as  it  was,  did  not  please 
her.  She  was  homesick  for  Paris.  "  Monsieur  de  Serbel- 
loni  will  tell  you,  my  dear  aunt,"  she  wrote  early  in  Septem- 
ber, **  how  I  have  been  received  in  Italy,  feted  wherever  I 
have  gone,  all  the  princes  of  Italy  entertaining  me,  even 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  Ah,  well!  I  would  rather 
be  a  simple  private  individual  in  France;  I  do  not  like  the 
honors  of  this  country,  I  am  bored  to  death.  It  is  true  that 
my  health  does  much  to  make  me  sad ;  I  am  not  well  at  all. 
If  happiness  could  bring  health,  I  ought  to  be  well.  I 
have  the  kindest  husband  that  one  could  possibly  find;  I 
have  not  time  to  want  anything;  my  will  is  his;  he  is  on  his 

By  J.  B.  Isabcy.  {CDllecIion  of  M.  Edrnond  Taigny.)  Thi*  portrait  in 
;rayDn,  liEliIly  louchcd  with  color,  nas  excciilcd  at  Klalmaiton,  probably  in  Hie 
rovm  oF  Ibc  year   173S.     ll  »  very  littte  known.      Isahey,  whose  {xncil  was 

1   walk    in   the  jiark.      This   skctrh   waa  given   lo   M.   Taitiny   by    Iiabey   him- 
lelf.— A.  Tt. 



knees  before  me  all  day  long,  as  if  I  were  a  divinity.  One 
could  not  have  a  better  husband.  M.  de  Serbelloni  will 
tell  you  how  much  I  am  loved ;  he  writes  often  to  my  chil- 
dren and  is  verv  fond  of  them.'' 

Not  only  did  Josephine  neglect  to  write  to  this  "  best 
husband  in  the  world  ",  as  she  herself  called  Bonaparte,  but 
she  spent  many  hours  at  Milan  in  conspicuous  flirtations 
with  young  officers  who  were  glad  enough  to  pay  her  court. 
Vague  rumors  of  these  flirtations  came  to  Napoleon's  ears, 
no  doubt,  though  it  is  certain  he  thought  little  of  them. 
There  are  references  in  his  letters  which  might  be  attribu- 
ted to  jealousy,  but  it  is  clear  that  his  confidence  in  Joseph- 
ine at  this  time  was  such  that  a  denial  from  her,  an  ag- 
grieved look,  a  tear  of  reproach,  made  him  sue  for  pardon 
and  forget  his  fears. 

Aside  from  her  carelessness  about  writing  to  him,  the 
gravest  complaint  that  he  had  against  her  was  her  willing- 
ness to  receive  valuable  gifts.  The  treasures  of  Italy  were 
open  to  the  French,  and  Bonaparte  was  sending  quantities 
of  rare  art  objects  to  Paris;  but  he  declared  it  highly  im- 
proper that  any  of  these  things  or  any  private  gifts  should 
go  to  him  or  his  suite.  Josephine,  however,  had  no 
scruples  about  gifts,  and  accepted  gladly  the  jewels,  pictures, 
and  bibelots  which  were  sent  her.  More  than  one  scene 
resulted  from  this  indiscretion,  but  it  always  ended  in  her 
keeping  the  treasure.  She  learned  before  she  had  been  long 
in  Italy  not  to  tell  the  General  what  had  been  given  her,  or 
if  he  accused  her  of  receiving  gifts,  to  deny  it. 

But  unhappy  as  Josephine  made  Bonaparte  in  his  absence 
by  her  neglect  and  her  flirtations,  she  more  than  compen- 
sated for  it  by  her  amiability  when  he  returned.  He  had 
reason  soon,  too,  to  see  that  by  her  tact  she  did  much  to 
help  his  cause  in  Italy.  She  was  the  embodiment  of  grace 
and  cheerfulness,  she  was  familiar  with  the  ways  of  good 


society,  she  had  tact  with  the  republican  element  of  the 
country,  which  prided  itself  on  its  ideals  and  patriotism,  and 
she  appeased  the  nobles,  who  felt  that  she  was  one  of  them. 
Napoleon  had  reason  to  say  of  Josephine's  influence  in  Italy 
what  he  said  later  of  her  influence  in  Paris — that  without  it, 
he  could  never  have  accomplished  what  he  did.  Her  value 
in  his  plans  was  particularly  evident  in  the  spring  and 
summer  of  1797,  which  they  passed  together,  partly  at  the 
palace  of  Serbelloni  and  partly  at  the  chateau  of  Monte- 
bello.  Their  life  at  this  time  was  rather  that  of  two 
crowned  heads  than  that  of  a  general  of  an  army  and  his 
wife.  They  lived  in  the  greatest  state,  protected  by  strict 
etiquette  and  surrounded  by  the  officers  of  the  army  of 
Italy  and  representatives  from  Austria  and  the  Italian 
states.  Audiences  with  the  General  were  daily  sought  by 
the  greatest  men  of  Italy.  In  all  this  pageant  of  power 
Josephine  moved  as  naturally  and  easily  as  if  she  had  been 
born  to  it.  On  every  side  she  won  friends ;  no  one  came  to 
the  chateau  who  did  not  go  away  to  praise  her  good  taste, 
her  simplicity,  her  anxiety  to  please.  She  never  interfered 
in  politics  either,  they  said,  though  she  was  ever  willing  to 
help  a  friend  in  securing  the  General's  favor;  and  all  this 
praise  was  deserved.  Josephine's  good-will  was  bom  of  a 
kind  heart.  It  was  not  merely  the  complacency  of  indolence ; 
she  had  no  malice,  she  felt  kindly  toward  the  whole  world, 
she  had  all  her  life  been  willing  to  exhaust  every  resource  in 
her  power  for  her  friends.  She  was  willing  to  do  so  now, 
and  she  remained  of  this  disposition  to  the  end  of  her  life. 
Such  a  character  makes  a  man  or  woman  loved  in  any  age, 
in  any  society,  whatever  his  faults.  It  made  Josephine  loved 
particularly  in  her  age  and  her  society,  where  genuine  kind- 
ness was  rare  and  where  her  peculiar  faults — vices,  perhaps 
one  should  say — w^ere  readily  overlooked,  particularly  if 
they  were  handled  discreetly. 


The  fall  of  1797,  Napoleon  passed  in  negotiations  with 
Austria.  For  a  time  Josephine  was  with  him.  Then  rest- 
less and  eager  to  see  Italy,  she  left  him  in  October  and  went 
to  Venice,  where  a  splendid  reception  was  given  her.  From 
there  she  travelled  as  her  fancy  dictated  in  Northern  Italy. 
Everywhere  she  went  she  was  received  royally,  and  loaded 
with  gifts.  She  did  not  reach  Paris  until  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary, 1798,  nearly  a  month  after  Napoleon. 

She  came  back  to  find  her  husband  the  most  talked  of 
man  in  Europe.  She  found,  too,  that  her  return  was  eagerly 
looked  for  because  the  General  absolutely  refused  to  be 
lionized — even  to  appear  at  public  functions,  without  her. 
Her  coming  was  thus  the  signal  for  a  round  of  gaieties, 
where,  it  must  be  confessed,  Bonaparte  played  rather  the 
part  of  a  bear.  He  would  not  leave  Josephine's  side;  he 
wanted  to  talk  with  her  alone,  and  he  openly  declared  that 
,  he  would  rather  stay  at  home  with  her  than  go  to  the  most 
brilliant  reception  Paris  could  offer.  **  I  love  my  wife/'  he 
said  seriously  to  those  who  chaffed  him  or  remonstrated. 
With  all  his  dreams  of  ambition,  it  is  certain  that  she  filled 
his  life  as  completely  now  as  she  had  nearly  two  years  before, 
when  he  married  her.  As  for  Josephine  herself,  she  seems  to 
have  been  completely  satisfied  now  that  she  was  in  Paris. 
She  was  the  centre  of  an  admiring  circle;  she  was  loaded 
daily  with  presents,  not  only  from  cities  and  statesmen,  but 
from  shop-keepers  and  manufacturers,  eager  to  have  her  ap- 
proval, to  use  her  name.  Not  since  her  marriage  had  she 
been  so  contented. 

This  satisfactory  state  of  affairs  was  interrupted  in  May, 
when  Bonaparte  sailed  for  Eg>'pt.  Josephine  went  to 
Toulon  to  see  him  off,  promising  that  she  would  soon  follow 
him,  and  then  retired  to  the  springs  at  Plombieres  for  a 
season.  It  was  fall  before  she  returned  to  Paris.  When  she 
did  return,  it  was  to  plunge  into  a  round  of  frivolity  and 


extravagance.  The  most  conspicuous  of  her  indiscretions 
was  the  attentions  she  accepted  from  a  young  man — Hip- 
pohle  Charles — a  former  adjutant  to  one  of  Xapoleon's 
generals.  She  had  known  him  l)efore  she  went  to  Italy; 
indeed  he  had  \>een  in  her  party  when  she  left  for  Milan  in 
1796.  At  Milan  he  had  paid  her  so  assiduous  court  and 
had  l^een  so  encouraged  that  the  news  came  to  Xapoleon's 
ears,  and  Charles  was  suddenly  dismissed  from  the  service. 
He  had  found  a  j)lace  in  Paris — through  Josej)hine's  in- 
fluence, the  gossips  said.  At  all  events,  this  young  man 
re-appeared  now  that  Bonaparte  was  in  Egypt,  and  became 
a  constant  visitor  at  her  house:  and  when,  the  summer  fol- 
lowing, she  bought  Malmaison  and  took  possession.  Charles 
was  her  first  guest.  **  Vou  had  better  get  a  divorce  from 
Bonaparte  and  marry  Charles,"  some  of  her  plain-speaking 
friends  told  her. 

When  people  as  little  scrupulous  as  Josephine  herself  re-  . 
proved  her,  it  can  be  imagined  what  the  effect  would  be  on 
the  Bonaparte  family,  most  of  whom  were  now  established 
in  or  near  Paris.  They  had  never  cared  for  Josephine,  and 
never  had  had  much  to  do  with  her.  Lucien  and  Joseph 
Avere  the  onlv  members  of  the  family  who  had  seen  her  be- 
fore  her  marriage  to  Xai)oleon,  and  to  all  of  them  the  mar- 
riage came  as  a  shock,  Bonaparte  not  having  announced  it 
even  to  his  mr)ther.  They  looked  upon  her  as  an  interloper 
— one  who  might  deprive  them  of  some  of  the  rewards  of 
Bonaparte's  genius:  these  rewards  the  entire  family  seem 
to  have  felt  from  the  first  belonged  to  them  and  to  them 
alone.  No  one  of  them  had  had,  until  this  winter,  much 
opportunity  to  study  Josei)hine.  They  were  irritated  to  find 
her  so  evidently  a  woman  of  higher  rank  than  themselves; 
they  were  disgusted  at  her  extravagance  and  indiscretion. 
Josephine,  on  her  side,  took  little  trouble  to  win  them. 
After  all,  they  were  only  Corsicans,  and  not  amusing  like 


Napoleon.  No  doubt,  she  felt  a  little  towards  them  as  Alex- 
ander de  Beauharnais  had  felt  towards  her  when  she  first 
arrived  in  Paris — an  untrained  little  islander,  the  province 
speaking  in  every  gesture.  To  Josephine's  credit,  let  it  be 
said,  she  never  was  guilty  of  trying  to  undermine  the  place 
of  his  family  in  her  husband's  affections ;  she  never  opposed 
their  advancement:  she  always,  to  the  best  of  her  ability, 
aided  Napoleon  in  any  plans  he  had  for  them.  It  is  much 
more  than  can  be  said  of  the  Bonapartes'  attitude  towards 
the  Beauharnais. 

Shocking  to  the  Bonapartes  as  were  Josephine's  flirta- 
tions, they  looked  on  her  extravagance  with  even  more 
horror.  To  Madame  Bonaparte,  especially,  it  was  an  un- 
forgivable sin;  and,  in  fact,  extravagance  could  scarcely 
have  gone  farther.  Bonaparte  was  not  rich.  Indeed  he 
prided  himself  on  having  returned  from  Italy  poor.  But  he 
had  left  a  fair  income  in  his  brother  Joseph's  hands — a  part 
of  which  was  to  go  to  Josephine.  She,  in  utter  disregard 
of  the  amount  of  this  income,  lived  in  luxury,  entertaining 
royally,  and  buying  prodigally  everything  that  pleased  her 
fancy.  To  meet  her  pressing  demands,  she  borrowed  right 
and  left.  Finally,  in  the  summer  of  1799,  she  purchased 
Malmaison,  a  country  seat  at  which  she  and  Napoleon  had 
looked  before  he  left  for  Egypt.  The  purchasing  price  was 
about  $50,000,  and  she  had  to  borrow  $3,000  for  the  advance 
payment.  She  went  immediately  to  the  place,  running  in 
debt  for  repairs  and  furnishings. 

Joseph  Bonaparte  was  deeply  disgusted  by  Josephine's 
reckless  expenditures,  and  it  was  only  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  she  was  able  to  get  any  money  from  him.  He 
was  the  more  disobliging  because  he  and  other  members  of 
the  family  believed  that  they  now  had  proofs  which  surely 
would  convince  Napoleon  that  Josephine  was  faithless  and 
would  cause  him  to  secure  a  divorce  as  soon  as  he  returned 


from  Italy.  And,  indeed  their  cause  had  already  advanced 
in  Egypt  far  beyond  their  knowledge.  Joseph  had,  before 
Napoleon's  sailing,  put  such  suspicions  of  Josephine's  in- 
fidelity into  his  mind  and  referred  him  to  such  members  of 
his  own  staff  for  proof,  that  the  General  once  at  sea  had  in- 
vestigated the  matter  and  become  convinced  of  the  truth 
of  the  charges.  The  revelation  caused  him  weeks  of  gloom. 
There  was  nothing  left  to  live  for,  he  wrote  Joseph.  At 
twenty-nine  he  was  disillusioned.  Honors  w^earied  him, 
glory  was  colorless,  sentiment  dead,  men  without  interest. 
He  should  return  to  France  and  retire  to  the  countrv.  But 
he  could  not  abandon  his  post  at  once,  and  as  the  weeks  went 
on  recklessness  succeeded  to  gloom.  If  his  wnfe  was  faith- 
less, why  should  he  be  faithful?  From  that  time  Joseph- 
ine's exclusive  sway  was  broken.  The  man  who  had 
for  her  sake  spurned  all  women  rode  openly  through  the 
streets  of  Cairo  with  a  pretty  little  madame  whose  husband 
had  been  sent  suddenly  to  France.  The  glory  of  love  was 
gone  forever  for  Bonaparte,  and  poor  Josephine  had  lost 
the  rarest  jewel  of  her  life.  Perhaps  the  saddest  of  it  all 
w^as  that  she  had  never  realized  what  she  possessed,  never 
knew  her  loss. 

How  much  Josephine  knew  of  her  husband's  change  of 
feeling  towards  her  is  uncertain.  There  is  a  letter  in  ex- 
istence purporting  to  be  hers,  written  at  this  time  in  answer 
to  accusations  which  Napoleon  had  made  from  Egypt,  in 
w^hich  she  repels  the  charges  with  virtuous  indignation  and 
attributes  them  to  her  enemies,  presumably  the  Bona- 
partes : — 

It  is  impossible,  General  (she  writes),  that  the  letter  I  have  just  re- 
ceived comes  from  you?  I  can  scarcely  credit  it  when  I  compare  that 
letter  with  others  now  before  me,  to  which  your  love  imparts  so  many 
charms!  My  eyes,  indeed,  would  persuade  me  that  your  hand  traced 
these  lines ;  but  my  heart  refuses  to  believe  that  a  letter  from  you  could 


ever  have  caused  the  mortal  anguish  I  experience  on  perusing  these 
expressions  of  your  displeasure,  which  afflict  me  the  more  when  I  con- 
sider how  much  pain  they  must  have  cost  you. 

I  know  not  what  I  have  done  to  provoke  some  malignant  enemy  to 
destroy  my  peace  by  disturbing  yours;  but  certainly  a  powerful  motive 
must  influence  some  one  in  continually  renewing  calumnies  against  me. 
and  giving  them  a  sufficient  appearance  of  probability  to  impose  on  the 
man  who  has  hitherto  judged  me  worthy  of  his  affection  and  confidence. 
These  two  sentiments  are  necessary  to  my  happiness,  and  if  they  are  to 
be  so  soon  withdrawn  from  me,  I  can  only  regret  that  I  was  ever  blest 
in  possessing  them  or  knowing  you.     .     .     . 

Instead  of  listening  to  traducers,  who,  for  reasons  which  I  cannot 
explain,  seek  to  disturb  our  happiness,  why  do  you  not  silence  them  by 
enumerating  the  benefits  you  have  bestowed  on  a  woman  whose  heart 
could  never  be  reproached  with  ingratitude?  The  knowledge  of  what 
you  have  done  for  my  children  would  check  the  malignity  of  these 
calumniators,  for  they  would  then  see  that  the  strongest  link  of  my 
attachment  for  you  depends  on  my  character  as  a  mother.  Your  sub- 
sequent conduct,  which  has  claimed  the  admiration  of  all  Europe,  could 
have  no  other  effect  than  to  make  me  adore  the  husband  who  gave  me 
his  hand  when  I  was  poor  and  unfortunate.  Every  step  you  take  adds 
to  the  glory  of  the  name  I  bear;  yet  this  is  the  moment  that  has  been 
selected  for  persuading  you  that  I  no  longer  love  you !  Surely  nothing 
can  be  more  wicked  and  absurd  than  the  conduct  of  those  who  are  about 
you.  and  are  jealous  of  your  marked  superiority! 

Yes,  I  still  love  you.  and  no  less  tenderly  than  ever.  Those  who 
allege  the  contrary  know  that  they  speak  falsely.  To  those  very  persons 
I  have  frequently  written  to  enquire  about  you  and  to  recommend  them 
to  console  you  by  their  friendship  for  the  absence  of  her  who  is  your  best 
and  truest  friend. 

Yet  what  has  been  the  conduct  of  the  men  in  whom  you  repose 
confidence,  and  on  whose  testimony  you  form  so  unjust  an  opinion  of 
me?  They  conceal  from  you  every  circumstance  calculated  to  alleviate 
the  anguish  of  our  separation,  and  they  seek  to  fill  your  mind  with 
suspicion  in  order  to  drive  you  from  a  country  with  which  they  are 
dissatisfied.  Their  object  is  to  make  you  unhappy.  I  see  this  plainly, 
though  you  are  blind  to  their  perfidious  intentions.  Being  no  longer 
their  equal,  you  have  become  their  enemy,  and  every  one  of  your  vic- 
tories is  a  fresh  ground  of  envy  and  hatred. 

I  know  their  intrigues,  and  I  disdain  to  avenge  myself  by  naming  the 
men  whom  I  despise,  but  whose  valor  and  talents  may  be  useful  to 
you  in  the  great  enterprise  which  you  have  so  propitiously  commenced. 
When  you  return.  I  will  unmask  these  enemies  of  your  glory — but  no; 


the  happiness  of  seeing  you  again  will  banish  from  my  recollection  the 
misery  they  are  endeavoring  to  inflict  upon  me.  and  I  shall  think  only 
of  what  they  have  done  to  promote  the  success  of  your  projects. 

I  acknowledge  that  I  see  a  great  deal  of  company;  for  every  one  is 
eager  to  compliment  me  on  your  success,  and  I  confess  I  have  not 
resolution  ro  close  my  door  against  those  who  speak  of  you.  I  also 
confess  that  a  great  portion  of  my  visitors  are  gentlemen.  Men  under- 
stand your  bold  projects  better  than  women,  and  they  speak  with  en- 
thusiasm of  your  glorious  achievements,  while  my  female  friends  only 
complain  of  you  for  having  carried  away  their  husbands,  brothers  or 
fathers.  I  take  no  pleasure  in  their  society  if  they  do  not  praise  you ; 
yet  there  are  some  among  them  whose  hearts  and  understandings  claim 
my  highest  regard  because  they  entertain  sincere  friendship  for  you.  In 
this  number  I  may  distinguish  Mesdames  d'Aiguillon.  Tallien.  and  my 
aunt.  They  are  almost  constantly  with  me,  and  they  can  tell  you,  un- 
grateful as  you  are.  whether  /  haz'C  been  coquetting  with  everybody. 
These  are  your  words,  and  they  would  be  hateful  to  me  were  I  not 
certain  that  you  have  disavowed  them  and  are  sorry  for  having  written 
them.    .     .     . 

I  sometimes  receive  honors  here  which  cause  me  no  small  degree  of 
embarrassment.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  homage,  and  I 
see  it  is  displeasing  to  our  authorities,  who  are  always  suspicious  and 
fearful  of  losing  their  newly-gotten  power.  Never  mind  them,  you  will 
say;  and  I  should  not.  but  that  I  know  they  will  try  to  injure  you.  and 
I  cannot  endure  the  thought  of  contributing  in  any  way  to  those  feelings 
of  enmity  which  your  triumphs  sufficiently  account  for.  If  they  are 
envious  now,  what  will  they  be  when  you  return  crowned  with  fresh 
laurels?  Heavens  knows  to  what  lengths  their  malignity  will  then  carry 
them !    But  you  will  be  here,  and  then  nothing  can  vex  me.     .     .    . 

For  my  part,  my  time  is  occupied  in  writing  to  you.  hearing  your 
praises,  reading  the  journals,  in  which  your  name  appears  in  every  page, 
thinking  of  you.  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  I  may  see  vou  hourly, 
complaining  of  your  absence,  and  longing  for  your  return ;  and  when  my 
task  is  ended.  I  begin  it  over  again.  Are  all  these  proofs  of  indifference? 
You  will  never  have  any  others  from  me,  and  if  I  receive  no  worse  from 
you.  I  shall  have  no  great  reason  to  cf^mplain,  in  spite  of  the  ill-natured 
stories  I  hear  about  a  certain  lady  in  whom  you  are  said  to  take  a  lively 
interest.  But  why  should  I  doubt  you?  You  as.sure  me  that  you  love 
me,  and,  judging  of  your  heart  by  my  own.  I  believe  you. 

Josephine  seems  not  to  have  doubted  her  power  to  pro- 
pitiate Napoleon  on  his  return.  She  did  not  count,  how- 
ever, on  his  brothers  seeing  him  before  she  did;  but  so  it 


turned  out.  Bonaparte,  with  an  eye  to  effect,  landed  un- 
expectedly in  France  on  October  6,  1799.  The  Bonaparte 
brothers,  as  soon  as  they  heard  of  his  arrival,  hurried 
southward  without  notifying  Josephine,  whose  first  knowl- 
edge of  his  coming  was  while  she  was  dining  out  on  October 
10.  She  immediately  started  to  meet  him,  but  took  the 
wrong  route.  Returning  to  Paris  alone,  she  found  that  her 
husband  had  reached  home  twelve  hours  ahead  of  her. 

Hastening  to  the  little  house  in  the  rue  de  la  Victoire, — 
a  street  that  had  latterly  changed  its  name  in  honor  of  him ; 
and  the  house  in  which  she  had  first  received  him,  which 
he  had  bought  subsequently  because  of  its  associations,  and 
which  he  had  declared,  after  his  disillusion  in  Egypt,  that 
he  should  always  keep, — ^Josephine  found  Napoleon  locked 
in  his  room.  Joseph  and  Lucien  had  improved  their  op- 
portunity, and  wrung  from  him  a  promise  to  see  his  wife  no 
more — to  secure  a  divorce.  Throwing  herself  on  her  knees 
before  the  door,  Josephine  wept  and  begged  for  hours, 
until  the  door  opened;  and  then,  aided  by  Hortense  and 
Eugene,  she  sued  for  pardon.  The  power  she  still  had  over 
the  man  was  too  great  for  him  to  resist  long.  The  next 
morning,  when  the  Bonaparte  brothers  called,  they  found 
a  reconciled  household. 

How  complete  the  reconciliation  was  they  realized  when 
they  saw  Napoleon  paying  the  $200,000  and  more  due  at 
Malmaison  and  settling  the  debts  to  servants,  merchants, 
jew^elers,  caterers,  florists,  liverymen,  everybody,  in  fact, 
which  Josephine  had  contracted  right  and  left  in  his  absence. 
Not  only  did  he  pay  her  obligations  with  little  more  than  a 
grimace,  but  he  entered  heartily  into  her  plans  for  repairing 
and  beautifying  their  new  home.  The  two  appeared  con- 
stantly together  in  public,  where  their  evident  happiness 
coming  so  close  upon  the  rumors  of  a  divorce,  caused 
endless  gossip. 




JOSEPHINE  realized  fully  that  if  her  victor}'  over  her 
brothers-in-law  was  complete,  it  could  endure  only 
during  her  own  good  behavior — ^that,   if  she  ever 
again  gave  them  reason  for  complaining  of  her  conduct,  she 
probably  would  have  to  suffer  the  full  penalty  of  her  wrong- 
doing.   She  must  have  realized,  too,  that  the  supreme  power 
she  had  once  exercised  over  Napoleon  was  at  an  end,  that  he 
could  get  along  very  well   without   her.     The  absorbing 
passion  of  the  Italian  campaign  had  become  the  comfortable, 
unexacting  affection  which  would  have  been  so  welcome  to 
her  in  1796.     The  change,  if  more  peaceable,  brought  its 
dangers,  she  well  knew.     It  meant  that  if  she  kept  him  now, 
she  not  only  must  be  irreproachable  in  her  life,  but  she  must 
foster  his  affection  by  her  devotion,  amuse  him,  stand  bv 
him  in  his  ambition ;    she  must  be  the  suitor  now.     There 
was  no  question  in  her  mind  that  he  was  worth  it.     If  there 
ever  had  been,  the  wonderful  enthusiasm  of  the  people  on  his 
return  from  Egjpt  would  have  dissipated  the  doabf.     Her 
C'urse  was  evident,  and  she  adopted  it  immediately,  and 
applied  herself  to  it  with  more  seriousness  than  she  ever  had 
given  to  anything  before  in  her  life     Indeed,  the  only  scri- 
ru?  purix)se  consistently  followed  which  is  to  be  found  in 
J  .sephine's  life  is  the  resolve  taken  after  the  Egyptian  cam- 
:*^:gT).  unconsciously,  no  doubt,  to  keep  what  remained  to 
-frr  -f  Napoleon's  affection,  to  make  hcrsdt  neccssanr  to 



An  opportunity  to  show  him  how  useful  she  might  be  in 
his  career  came  very  soon.  The  coup  d'etat  of  the  i8th 
and  19th  Brumaire  (9th  and  loth  November,  1799)  re- 
sulted in  Napoleon's  being  made  First  Consul  in  the  neW 
government  which  took  the  place  of  the  Directory.  The 
Bonapartes  went  at  once  to  the  Luxembourg  Palace  to  live, 
and  remained  there  until  February,  when  the  Tuileries  was 
made  the  Government  House.  As  the  First.  Lady  of  the 
Land,  Josephine  was  in  a  position  where  she  could  be  an 
infinite  harm  or  help  to  her  husband.  Any  flippancy,  self- 
will  or  malice  in  managing  the  crowds  of  people  she  saw 
from  day  to  day  would  have  been  fatal  both  to  her  and  to 
Napoleon.  The  tact  she  showed  from  the  first  in  playing 
the  hostess  of  France  was  exquisite.  That  a  woman  who 
for  thirty-seven  years  had  been  the  plaything  of  fate,  who 
had  shown  no  moral  principle  or  high  purpose  in  meeting 
the  crises  of  her  life,  whose  chief  aim  had  always  been  pleas- 
ure, and  whose  only  w^eapons  had  been  her  sweet  temper 
and  her  tears,  should  preside  over  the  official  society  of  a 
newly-formed  government  and  not  only  make  no  mistakes, 
but  every  day  knit  the  discordant  elements  of  that  society 
more  close,  is  one  of  the  marvels  of  feminine  intuition  and 

No  doubt  but  that  with  Josephine  her  perfect  goodness  of 
heart  was  at  the  bottom  of  her  tact.  She  had  no  malice, 
she  much  preferred  to  see  even  her  enemies  happy  rather 
than  miserable,  and  though  she  might  weep  and  complain  of 
their  unkindness,  if  she  had  an  opportunity  she  would  do 
them  a  favor.  Her  goodness  impressed  everybody.  The 
most  disgruntled,  after  passing  a  few  moments  with  the  wife 
of  the  First  Consul,  went  away  mollified,  if  not  satisfied; 
and  a  second  visit  usually  satisfied  them.  She  flattered  the 
rough  soldiers,  when  Napoleon,  always  eager  to  show  atten- 
tion to  the  army,  presented  them  to  her,  by  her  knowledge 


of  their  deeds.  She  softened  the  suspicions  of  the  radical 
Republicans  by  her  affectation  of  sans-culottism  and  her 
familiarity  with  the  members  of  the  Girondin  and  Terrorist 
governments.  She  aroused  hope  among  the  aristocrats  that 
she  would  secure  them  favors  from  the  government — was 
she  not  one  of  themselves?  Was  not  her  first  husband  a 
viscount  and  a  victim  of  the  guillotine.  She  really  wanted 
everybody  to  be  pleased,  and  by  her  mere  amiability  she 
came  as  near  as  a  human  being  can  to  pleasing  everybody. 

She  was  wise,  too,  in  her  dealings  with  people.  She 
never  pretended  to  know  anything  about  politics — that  was 
Napoleon's  business;  but  if  she  could  do  them  a  favor,  she 
w^ould ;  and  straightway  she  wrote  a  note  or  took  her  car- 
riage to  intercede,  personally,  for  them.  If  she  was  re- 
fused, she  explained  with  much  pains  just  why  it  was;  if 
she  succeeded,  she  was  as  pleased  as  a  child.  Hundreds  of 
her  little  notes  soliciting  favors,  are  to  be  seen  in  the  collec- 
tions in  Europe.  Napoleon  allowed  her  a  free  hand  in  this 
matter,  for  he  appreciated  how  purely  it  was  good-will,  not 
any  desire  to  mix  in  politics,  which  animated  her.  He  real- 
ized, too,  how^  valuable  to  the  First  Consul  it  was  to  have 
some  one  who  always  made  a  friend,  whether  she  secured  a 
favor  or  not. 

No  doubt  much  of  Josephine's  influence  w^as  due  to  her 
personal  charm.  She  w^as  never  strictly  a  beautiful  woman, 
but  her  grace  was  so  exquisite,  her  toilet  so  perfect,  her  ex- 
pression so  winning,  that  defects  were  forgotten  in  the  de- 
light of  her  personality.  Madame  de  Remusat,  in  describ- 
ing Josephine,  says  that  without  being  beautiful,  she  pos- 
sessed a  peculiar  charm.  Her  features  were  fine  and  har- 
monious; her  expression  w^as  pleasant;  her  mouth,  which 
w^as  small,  concealed  skilfully  her  poor  teeth ;  her  complex- 
ion, wliich  was  rather  dark,  was  helped  out  by  rouge  and 
powder;   her  form  was  perfect,  her  limbs  being  supple  and 


delicate,  and  every  movement  of  her  body  was  easy.  *'  I 
never  knew  anyone/*  Mme.  de  Remusat  writes,  **  to  whom 
one  could  apply  more  appropriately  La  Fontaine's  verse, 
'  Et  la  grace,  plus  belle  encore  que  la  beaute* '' 

One  of  Josephine's  greatest  charms  was  her  voice :  it  was 
soft,  well  modulated,  and  very  musical;  it  always  put  Na- 
poleon under  a  peculiar  spell.  She  was  an  excellent  reader, 
and  seemed  never  to  tire  of  reading  aloud.  In  the  in- 
timacy of  their  apartments  she  spent  much  time  reading 
aloud  to  Napoleon,  and  often,  when  he  was  sleepless  afteV 
a  hard  day,  she  would  sit  by  his  bed  with  a  book  until 
he  fell  asleep.  Many  of  those  who  heard  her  read  have  said 
that  the  charm  of  her  voice  was  such  that  one  forgot  entirely 
what  she  was  saying  and  listened  simply  to  the  music  of  the 

Constant  says,  in  describing  Josephine :  *'  She  was  of 
medium  height  and  of  a  rarely  perfect  form;  her  move- 
ments were  supple  and  light,  making  her  walk  something 
fairylike,  without  preventing  a  certain  majesty  becoming 
to  a  sovereign;  her  face  changed  with  every  thought  of 
her  soul,  and  never  lost  its  charming  sweetness ;  in  pleasure 
as  in  sorrow  she  was  always  beautiful  to  look  upon.  There 
never  was  a  woman  who  demonstrated  better  than  she  that 
'  the  eyes  are  the  mirror  of  the  soul ; '  hers  were  of  a  deep 
blue,  and  almost 'always  half  closed  by  her  long  lids,  which 
were  slightly  arched  and  bordered  with  the  most  beautiful 
lashes  in  the  world.  Her  hair  was  very  beautiful,  long;  and 
soft ;  she  liked  to  dress  it  in  the  morning  with  a  red  Madras 
handkerchief,  which  gave  her  a  Creole  air,  most  piquant  to 


Josephine  showed  her  wisdom,  from  the  beginning  of  the 
Consulate,  in  yielding  to  Napoleon's  wishes  about  whom  she 
should  receive.  The  First  Consul's  notions  of  official  so- 
ciety were  severe  and  well-matured.     Nobody  should  be  ad- 

B>-    Prud'hon.      This 

Napoleon    wandering,    i  .  -  , 

(IT9S).  (See  paRC  Sg.)  Prud'hon  shows  us  .InKphine  in  the  RaTden  of  the 
chateau  she  loved  so  well,  and  in  which  she  S|ient  the  happiest  nlomenls  of 
her   lite,   before  seeking   it  as  a   final   refuge   in   her  grief  and  despair.      The 

stone  heni^h  amid  "the"  grovea  ofthe  pa'rk.''in  an  "attitude  of  ret-erle"and  wean 
a  white  dicoUitll  robe  cnhroidered  in  gold.     A  crimion  shawl  is  draped  round 

^leculed  at  the  same  time  as  laabry'a  piclure  < 
iliCary  dreamer,  in  the  long  alleys  al  Malmaisn 
Prud'hon  'hows  us  Josephine  in  the  b      ' 



mitted  that  did  not  support  his  government.  At  least,  if 
they  criticised,  they  must  do  so  quietly.  The  army  must  be 
honored  there  before  all.  The  Republicans  must  be  made  to 
feel,  of  course,  that  this  was  their  society.  The  aristocrats 
must  be  encouraged  just  as  far  as  it  could  be  done  without 
giving  the  people  alarm.  A  fusion  of  all  elements  was  really 
what  he  aimed  at,  but  nobody  dared  mention  that  fact. 
Josephine's  intuition  seems  to  have  guided  her  almost  un- 
erringly through  the  difficult  task  of  giving  just  the  right 
amount  of  encouragement  and  attention  to  each. 

Above  all,  in  this  new  society  there  must  be  no  irregu- 
larities, no  scandals.  The  government  must  be  respectable. 
There  should  be  no  speculators,  no  contractors,  no  fakirs,  no 
persons  of  immorality  of  any  sort ;  only  honest  people,  and 
they  must  behave.  Order,  decency,  and  dignity  were  to 
prevail  in  the  Consulate.  No  more  impromptu  suppers  for 
Josephine,  no  more  dinners  with  Barras  and  Mme.  Tal- 
lien  and  their  like,  no  more  moonlight  walks  in  the  garden 
at  Malmaison.  La  vie  Bohcmc  was  ended,  and  she  was 
wise  enough  to  accept  the  situation  and  make  the  most  of  it. 

For  nearly  two  years  the  entertainments  over  which  Jose- 
phine presided  as  wife  of  the  First  Consul  were  very  sim- 
ple. There  were  balls  and  parades  and  fetes,  but  they  were 
conducted  like  such  functions  in  a  great  private  house,  where 
there  is  only  the  necessary  eticjuette  to  insure  order  and  com- 
fort. It  was  a  republican  court  which  was  held  at  the  Tuil- 
eries  and  at  Malmaison — for  the  country  home  of  the  Bona- 
partes  had  come  to  be  almost  an  official  residence,  so  much  of 
their  time  was  spent  there  and  so  many  were  the  visitors  who 
came  there.  The  place  was  a  great  delight  to  Josephine. 
She  was  having  the  chateau  rebuilt  and  the  gardens  laid  out 
over  again,  and  she  was  indulging  her  caprices  fully  in 
doing  it.  She  must  have  a  new  dining-room,  large  enough 
to  seat  a  great  diplomatic  dinner  party,  if  necessary.     There 


must  be  a  new  billiard  room,  a  new  library,  new  private 
apartments,  more  room  for  guests  and  servants,  more  stable 
room.  But  to  build  over  an  old  house  in  this  elaborate  way 
was  no  easy  task,  particularly  when  the  proprietor  enlarged 
and  changed  his  plans  each  month.  The  architects  warned 
Bonaparte  that  it  would  be  cheaper  to  pull  down  the  old 
chateau  than  to  rebuild,  but  the  work  was  under  way, 
and  it  must  go  on.  A  year  and  a  half  after  the  repairs 
began,  and  before  anything  was  completed,  the  bills  were 
sent  in — ^$120,000  had  already  been  spent.  **  For  what?'' 
demanded  the  enraged  First  Consul.  Protest  as  he  would 
the  work  had  to  continue.  For  years  Malmaison  was  a 
constant  expense — for  Josephine,  never  satisfied,  was  always 
enlarging  and  changing.  In  the  end,  the  chateau  was  nearly 
double  its  original  size,  but  its  exterior  never  had  any  real 
distinction.  The  interior,  however,  was  most  interesting 
from  the  great  number  of  rare  and  beautiful  art  objects 
which  it  contained  and  which,  for  the  most  part,  Josephine 
had  either  received  as  gifts  or  had  brought  from  Italy. 
There  was  a  wonderful  mantel  of  white  marble,  ornamented 
with  mosaic,  given  to  her  by  the  Pope,  and  there  were  vases 
of  Berlin  from  the  King  of  Prussia.  There  were  rare  speci- 
mens of  the  ancient  and  modern  works  of  all  the  Italian 
painters,  sculptors,  potters,  metal  workers,  and  there  were 
pictures  by  all  the  great  French  artists  of  the  day,  among 
them  many  portraits  of  Napoleon — in  Egypt,  in  Italy,  cross- 
ing the  Alps. 

Josephine  took  even  more  interest  in  the  park  and  gardens 
at  Malmaison  than  in  the  chateau.  She  was  passionately 
fond  of  flowers,  and  immediately  undertook  to  cultivate  at 
Malmaison  a  garden  of  rare  plants,  similar  to  that  which 
Marie  Antoinette  had  started  at  the  Petit  Trianon.  This 
soon  became,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  professional  botanists 
she  called  in  to  assist  her  in  collecting  her  plants,  a  veritable 


Botanical  Garden.  She  gathered  from  the  world  over,  and 
her  fancy  becoming  known,  ambassadors,  merchants,  and 
travellers,  foreign  and  French,  exerted  themselves  to  please 
her.  In  the  end,  thanks  to  the  skillful  gardeners  she  se- 
cured, her  plants  became  of  large  public  value  and  interest. 
Masson  says  that  between  1804  and  18 14,  184  new  species 
of  plants  found  their  way  into  the  country  through  Jo- 
sephine's garden.  The  eucalyptus,  hybiscus,  catalpa,  and 
camelia  w^ere  first  cultivated  by  her,  not  to  speak  of  many 
varieties  of  heather,  myrtle,  geranium,  cactus,  and  rhodo- 

When  she  first  owned  Malmaison,  the  land  was  in  park  or 
in  vines,  and  there  were  some  long  avenues  of  fine  trees. 
There  was  none  of  the  complicated  English  gardening  which 
was  then  in  fashion.  Josephine  would  have  nothing  else. 
So  the  fine  allees  and  lawns  were  destroyed,  and  groups  of 


shrubs,  long  rows  of  hedges,  a  brook,  lakes,  winding 
paths,  a  Swiss  village,  a  temple  of  love,  grottoes,  a  cascade, 
an  endless  variety  of  artificial  and  sentimental  devices,  took 
their  place.  To  decorate  this  park  of  Malmaison  to  Jo- 
sephine's liking,  the  government  turned  over  to  her  dozens 
of  bronze  and  marble  busts,  vases,  columns,  and  statues, 
some  of  them  of  great  value. 

One  curious  and  amusing  feature  of  the  park  was  the  ani- 
mals it  contained.  Josephine  was  as  fond  of  pets  as  of  flow- 
ers. She  always  had  one  or  more  dogs  from  which  she  was 
never  separated — not  even  Napoleon  could  make  her  give 
them  up,  much  as  he  detested  them.  At  Malmaison,  she 
gave  free  rein  to  her  liking.  Birds  were  her  chief  delight, 
and  she  bought  scores.  In  three  years  her  bill  for  birds 
from  one  dealer  was  over  $4,500.  The  lakes  were  filled  with 
swans,  black  and  white,  and  ducks  from  America  and  China ; 
in  the  parks  were  kangaroos,  deer,  gazelles,  a  chamois ;  there 
were  monkeys  everywhere ;  and  there  were  no  end  of  trained 


pets  of  all  kinds — usually  gifts.  None  of  these  animals 
were  of  any  practical  use;  to  be  sure  there  was  a  flock  of 
valuable  sheep,  but  these  were  kept  merely  as  a  decoration 
to  a  certain  field,  the  shepherds  who  guarded  them  having 
been  brought  in  their  native  costumes  from  Switzerland. 

Josephine's  interest  in  her  garden  and  flowers  and  animals 
was  beyond  that  of  the  mere  prodigal  w^ho  buys  for  the  sake 
of  buying  and  loses  his  interest  in  possessing.  One  of  the 
delights  of  her  life  at  Malmaison  was  visiting  daily  her  ani- 
mals, in  each  of  which  she  took  the  liveliest  interest.  Her 
flowers  she  watched  carefully,  and  she  took  great  delight  in 
distributing  them.  Many  gardens  in  France  to-day  contain 
plants  and  trees  w^hich  are  said  to  be  grown  from  cuttings 
sent  to  some  dead-and-gone  ancestor  by  Josephine. 

During  the  first  two  years  of  the  Consulate,  in  spite  of 
all  the  changes  going  on,  Malmaison  was  the  source  of  much 
brilliant  life.  Here  when  the  news  of  Marengo  reached 
Paris,  Josephine  had  tents  spread,  and  gave  a  great  fete  in 
honor  of  the  victory ;  here  gathered  all  the  artists  and  writ- 
ers and  musicians  of  the  day ;  here  eminent  travellers  came. 
There  was  great  simplicity  in  all  entertaining,  and  when  only 
the  private  circle  of  the  Consul  was  present,  there  was  much 
went  on  which  looked  like  romping,  Bonaparte  and  Jo- 
sephine leading  in  the  games. 

The  favorite  amusement  was  private  theatricals.  Bona- 
parte was  very  fond  of  the  drama,  had  studied  it  carefully 
for  many  years,  and  he  gave  much  attention  to  the  perform- 
ances at  Malmaison.  The  little  company  there  was  very 
good,  Hortense  de  Beauharnais  and  Bourrienne,  Bonaparte's 
secretary,  being  actors  of  more  than  ordinary  ability.  Some- 
thing of  the  care  that  was  given  to  the  preparation  of  an  en- 
tertainment is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  Talma  himself  used 
to  come  to  the  rehearsals  to  criticise.  Theatricals  took  such 
a  place  in  the  life  at  Malmaison  that  finally  a  little  theatre 


was  built.     It  would  seat  perhaps  200  persons,  and  was  con- 
nected with  the  salons  of  the  chateau  by  a  long  gallery. 

At  the  Tuileries,  the  Bonapartes  were  in  a  Government 
House;  at  Malmaison  they  were  at  home,  and  they  never 
anywhere  were  so  gay,  so  busy,  and  so  happy  together.  Cer- 
tainly in  these  two  years  Josephine  succeeded  admirably  in 
her  purpose  of  repairing  the  mischief  she  had  done  by  her 
past  indiscretions.  It  was  not  alone  her  tact  in  society  and 
its  value  to  him  which  had  won  Napoleon.  It  was  that  she 
had  been  to  him  an  incessant  delight  and  comfort.  She 
yielded  to  his  will  uncjuestioningly  and  willingly,  and  this 
pliability  was  the  more  welcome  because  his  own  family 
were  in  incessant  opposition  to  his  wishes.  She  was  always 
on  hand,  ready  to  walk,  to  drive,  to  go  with  him  where  he 
would.  She  was  tireless  in  her  efforts  to  please  the  people 
he  wanted  pleased,  to  carry  off  successfully  the  burdensome 
functions  of  official  life,  to  provide  the  entertainment  he 
liked.  She  studied  his  tastes  and  foresaw  his  wants.  She 
tried  to  please  him  in  the  least  detail.  Napoleon  loved  to 
see  her  in  white,  hence  she  wore  no  other  kind  of  gown  so 
often.  He  liked  to  hear  her  read,  and  no  matter  how  tired 
she  was  she  would  sit  at  his  bedside  by  the  hour,  if  he  wished, 
and  read  uncomplainingly.  Little  wonder  that  as  the  weeks 
went  Josephine  grew  dearer  and  dearer  to  Napoleon  or  that 
she,  seeing  her  hold,  watched  carefully  that  nothing  loosen  it. 





THE  first  real  threat  to  Josephine's  position  came  in 
a  political  question.  In  order  to  give  an  appear- 
ance of  Stability  to  the  new  government,  it  was  pro- 
posed to  give  the  First  Consul  the  right  to  appoint  a  suc- 
cessor. But  if  Napoleon  had  this  right,  would  he  not  wish 
for  a  son  upon  whom  to  confer  it,  would  he  not  desire  to 
establish  a  hereditary  office?  Josephine  had  given  him  no 
children.  He  was  only  thirty-one;  might  he  not,  in  spite  of 
all  his  affection,  divorce  her  for  the  sake  of  this  succession, 
which,  he  declared,  was  essential  to  the  future  of  the  Con- 
sulate. Josephine  turned  all  her  power  of  cajoling  upon 
Napoleon.  **  Do  not  make  yourself  king,''  she  begged; 
and  when  he  laughed  at  her,  and  told  her  that  securing  to 
himself  the  right  to  appoint  a  successor  in  the  Consulate 
was  nothing  of  that  sort — only  a  device  to  prevent  the  over- 
throw of  the  government  in  case  of  his  absence  at  the  head 
of  the  army,  or  in  case  of  his  sudden  death,  she  was  not 
convinced.  She  began,  indeed,  to  talk  of  the  advisability 
of  bringing  back  the  Bourbons,  and  called  herself  a  royalist. 
Napoleon's  decision  was  taken,  however.  He  must  ap- 
point a  successor,  and  it  should  be  one  of  his  own  family. 
But  which  one?  Joseph  had  no  head  for  affairs.  With 
Lucien  he  had  quarreled.  But  there  was  Louis,  who  had 
none  of  his  brothers'  faults  and  all  of  their  good  qualities. 
Louis  it  should  be.   The  knowledge  that  Napoleon  undoubt- 



edly  favored  Louis  as  his  successor  determined  Josephine  to 
arrange  a  marriage  between  him  and  her  daughter  Hor- 

At  this  time,  1800,  Hortense  was  seventeen  years  old, 
though  the  exceptional  experiences  of  her  childhood  had 
given  her  a  thoughtfulness  quite  superior  to  her  years.  She 
had  been  but  ten  when  her  mother,  lest  a  suspicion  of  her 
patriotism  might  be  roused  because  she  brought  up  her 
children  in  idleness,  had  apprenticed  her  to  a  dressmaker. 
She  was  but  eleven  years  old  when  her  parents  were  im- 
prisoned, and  when  in  the  costumes  of  laborers'  children  she 
and  Eugene  had  made  frequent  visits  to  les  Carmes  and  had 
gone  together  more  than  once  to  beg  of  persons  in  author- 
ity for  the  lives  of  their  father  and  mother.  After  the  Revo- 
lution, Hortense  had  been  placed  in  Mme.  Campan's  school 
at  St.  Germain — a  school  established  to  give  the  young  girls 
of  the  better  class  whose  parents  had  been  scattered  or  guillo- 
tined in  the  Revolution,  an  opportunity  to  learn  the  ways 
and  the  graces  of  that  society  which  for  so  long  the  patriots 
had  been  trying  to  uproot.  At  Mme.  Campan's,  Hortense 
had  distinguished  herself  by  her  gentlenesss  and  her  good- 
ness, by  the  quickness  with  which  she  learned  everything 
taught,  and  by  her  enthusiasm  and  ideals.  She  had  left  the 
school  a  thoroughly  charming  and  accomplished  girl,  to 
join  her  mother,  now  the  wife  of  the  First  Consul.  She  had 
all  of  Josephine's  charms  of  person,  her  grace  and  supple- 
ness, her  beautiful  form,  her  interesting  and  mobile  face; 
but  she  was  more  vivacious  than  Josephine  and  more  in- 
telligent. As  for  her  accomplishments,  they  were  many. 
She  played  the  piano  and  the  harp,  and  sang  well.  Her 
drawing  and  embroidery  w^ere  not  bad,  as  many  specimens 
still  preserved  show.  She  danced  w^ith  exquisite  grace; 
she,  even  at  this  time,  had  literary  aspirations,  and  she  was 


the  star  of  the  company  which  put  on  so  many  pieces  at  the 
little  theatre  at  Malmaison. 

Hortense  was  a  favorite  of  Napoleon.  He  had  loved  her 
first  because  she  was  Josephine's  daughter.  After  she  left 
school  and  was  constantly  of  the  household,  he  grew  more 
and  more  attached  to  her,  more  and  more  anxious  for  her 
happiness.  Hortense,  though  she  never  ceased  to  fear  Na- 
poleon, loved  him  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  young  girl  for  a 
conquering  hero.  She  seems  never  to  have  questioned  his 
will — never  to  have  doubted  his  affection  for  her. 

Hortense's  marriage  was,  of  course,  an  important  ques- 
tion with  the  Bonapartes,  and  various  suitors  had  been  con- 
sidered. The  girl  herself  was  not  ambitious.  Neither 
wealth  nor  station  obscured  her  judgment.  She  wanted  to 
marry  for  love,  she  declared.  At  one  time  she  had  a 
strong  feeling  for  Duroc,  and  Napoleon  favored  the  mar- 
riage strongly.  Duroc  was  of  good  family  and  a  brave 
soldier,  and  Hortense  loved  him;  what  better?  Josephine 
opposed  it.  She  had  set  her  heart  on  Louis  Bonaparte,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  Hortense  felt  something  like  an  an- 
tipathy to  the  young  man.  Louis  himself  did  not  take  to 
the  marriage  at  first.  He  had  imbibed  from  his  mother  and 
brothers  the  idea  that  the  Beauharnais  were  the  natural 
enemies  of  the  Bonapartes,  and  a  marriage  with  Hortense 
they  all  declared,  would  be  disloyal.  However,  in  Septem- 
ber, 1801,  when  Louis  returned  to  Paris  after  several  months 
absence  and  saw  Hortense  at  a  ball,  he  was  so  impressed  by 
her  charm  that  he  yielded  at  once  to  Josephine's  wishes,  and 
asked  for  her  hand.  Napoleon  consented  with  a  little  re- 
gret ;  Hortense  obeyed  as  a  matter  of  duty,  urged  to  it  as  she 
was  both  by  her  mother  and  Mme.  Campan.  The  marriage 
took  place  early  in  January,  1802.  It  was  a  victory  for 
Josephine  over  the  Bonapartes,  so  her  friends  said,  and  so 


the  Bonapartes  felt  bitterly.  But,  alas,  it  was  a  victory 
for  which  Hortense  paid  the  price.  Before  the  end  of  the 
year,  it  was  evident  that  Mme.  Louis  Bonaparte  was  very 
unhappy;  her  husband  was  jealous  and  exacting,  and  con- 
stantly tried  to  turn  her  against  her  mother  in  the  family 
feud.  Not  even  the  birth  of  a  son,  in  October,  silenced 
his  grievances  for  long,  though  to  Napoleon  and  to  Jo- 
sephine the  coming  of  the  little  Napoleon-Charles,  as  he 
was  named,  was  an  inexpressible  joy.  To  Josephine  the 
child  was  a  new  support  to  her  position,  a  new  reason  why 
a  succession  could  be  established  without  divorcing  her  and 
re-marrying.  It  was  a  succession  through  her,  too,  since  this 
was  her  daughter's  child. 

Napoleon  himself  soon  became  more  devoted  to  the  child 
than  its  father  ever  was.  In  a  way,  his  own  ardent  desire 
for  fatherhood  was  satisfied  by  the  presence  of  the  baby, 
which  he  kept  by  him  as  much  as  he  could,  riding  it  on  his 
back,  trotting  it  on  his  foot,  rolling  with  it  on  the  floor,  lying 
beside  it  at  night  until  it  slept — a  touching  proof  of  this 
extraordinary  man's  passion  to  possess  a  love  which  was 
faithful  and  disinterested.  As  time  went  on  and  the  ques- 
tion of  the  succession  came  into  the  senate,  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  brothers  as  to  how  the  heredity  should  be  regu- 
lated reached  its  climax.  Napoleon  determined  to  adopt 
Hortense's  child  and  make  him  his  heir.  Joseph,  Lucien, 
and  Louis  himself  refused  to  resign  what  they  called  their 
rights,  and  each  had  important  supporters  in  his  position. 
Lucien,  in  the  struggle,  broke  entirely  with  Napoleon. 

But  if  the  succession  was  to  be  settled  to  Josephine's  sat- 
isfaction, there  were  other  matters  which  worried  her  at  the 
beginning  of  the  life  Consulate.  Chief  among  these  was 
that  Napoleon  insisted  upon  leaving  Malmaison  for  St. 
Cloud.  Josephine's  interest  in  the  former  place  was  so 
great,   her  life   there   had   been   so   happy,   that   she   was 


violently  opposed  to  any  change.  St.  Cloud  was  too  large; 
it  smacked  too  much  of  royalty,  the  idea  of  which  was 
awaking  such  vague  alarms  in  her  mind;  its  associations 
were  too  sad.  But  her  opposition  availed  nothing  what- 
ever. Bonaparte  felt  that  a  larger  residence  was  necessary. 
Malmaison  was  a  private  home,  St.  Cloud  belonged  to  the 
State,  and  he,  as  the  head  of  the  State,  wished  to  occupy  its 
palaces.  They  had  no  sooner  taken  St.  Cloud  than  their 
whole  mode  of  life  changed;  the  simple,  informal  ways  of 
Malmaison  were  laid  aside,  and  a  rigid  etiquette  adopted. 
There  is  a  governor  of  the  palace,  there  are  prefects  of  the 
palace,  there  are  ladies  of  the  palace.  Josephine  and  Napo- 
leon no  longer  receive  everybody  of  the  household  at  their 
table,  but  eat  alone,  inviting,  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
those  persons  whom  they  may  care  particularly  to  dis- 
tinguish. The  ladies  and  gentlemen  belonging  to  the  palace 
have  tables  of  their  own  quite  apart.  There  is  a  military 
household  annexed  to  St.  Cloud,  with  four  generals  and  a 
large  guard,  an  elaborate  suite  which  accompanies  the  First 
Consul  when  he  goes  forth.  Every  Sunday,  a  great  crowd 
of  dignitaries — senators,  cardinals,  bishops,  ambassadors, 
everybody  of  note  in  Paris — flock  to  the  First  Consul's  re- 
ceptions. After  paying  their  respects  to  him,  they  pass  into 
the  apartment  of  Madame  Bonaparte.  It  is  the  former 
apartment  of  Marie  Antoinette,  and  that  Queen  herself  did 
not  receive  in  more  state  than  the  wife  of  the  First  Consul. 
It  is  the  same  at  the  services  in  the  chapel,  which  are  held 
every  Sunday,  and  which  Bonaparte  insists  everybody  shall 
attend.  At  the  theatre  of  the  palace,  where  the  little  plays 
which  they  so  much  enjoyed  at  Malmaison  are  still  repeated, 
there  is  the  same  increase  of  etiquette.  Josephine  and  Bona- 
parte no  longer  are  seated  with  their  friends,  but  occupy  a 
loge  apart;  and  when  they  enter,  the  whole  assembly  rises 
and  salutes.     People  are  there  by  invitation,  too,  and  no 


one  pretends  to  applaud  unless  the  signal  is  given  by  the 
First  Consul. 

Day  by  day  Josephine  bemoaned  this  new  departure; 
and  as  hostile  criticisms  and  sneers  reached  her,  she  set  her 
face  against  the  changes.  Her  protests  were  useless: 
**  Josephine,  you  are  tiresome — you  know  nothing  about 
these  things,"  Napoleon  finally  told  her,  and  Fouche,  her 
friend,  finally  silenced  her  by  his  cynical  advice.  **  Be  quiet, 
Madame;  you  annoy  your  husband  uselessly.  He  will  be 
Consul  for  life,  King  or  Emperor,  all  that  he  can  be.  Your 
fears  disturb  him;  your  advice  would  wound  him.  Keep 
your  proper  place,  and  let  the  events  which  neither  you  nor 
I  know  how  to  prevent  work  out." 

She  did  accept,  and  took  her  part.  If  it  was  true  that  Na- 
poleon was  going  to  make  himself  Emperor,  she  must,  be- 
fore all,  so  conduct  herself  that  he  would  prefer  her  on  the 
throne  at  his  side  to  all  the  Avorld.  As  the  weeks  went  on 
and  it  became  evident  that  an  Empire  would  soon  be  pro- 
claimed, Josephine  had  increasing  need  of  discretion.  The 
Bonaparte  family  had  set  themselves  again  to  prevent  the 
succession  going  to  a  Beauharnais.  Josephine  should  be  di- 
vorced, they  said ;  Eugene,  to  whom  Napoleon  was  greatly 
attached,  should  be  sent  ofif  with  his  mother.  As  for  his 
adopting  little  Napoleon-Charles,  the  child  of  Hortense, 
neither  Joseph  nor  Louis,  the  father,  w^ould  hear  to  it. 
"  Why  should  I  give  up  to  my  son  a  part  of  your  succes- 
sion? "  said  Louis  to  his  brother.  **  What  have  I  done  that 
I  should  be  disinherited?  What  will  be  my  place  when  this 
child  has  become  yours  and  finds  himself  in  a  position  far 
superior  to  mine,  independent  of  me,  outranking  me,  look- 
ing upon  me  with  suspicion  and  perhaps  with  contempt? 
No,  I  will  never  consent  to  it,  and  rather  than  consent  to 
bow  my  head  before  my  son  I  will  leave  France ;  I  will  take 


Napoleon  away  with  me,  and  we  will  see  if  you  will  dare  to 
steal  a  child  from  his  father/' 

Napoleon's  sisters,  particularly  Caroline,  Mme.  Murat, 
were  no  less  determined  than  the  brothers  to  secure  all 
the  advantages  possible  from  his  glory.  In  their  eager- 
ness, they  showed  such  envy  and  bitterness  that  Napoleon 
was  deeply  disgusted,  and  gave  them  no  satisfaction  as  to 
his  intentions.  He  even  took  some  pains  to  tease  them. 
One  day  when  the  family  were  together  and  he  was  playing 
with  little  Napoleon,  he  said,  "  Do  you  know,  little  one,  that 
you  are  in  danger  of  being  King  one  of  these  days?  " 

*' And  Achille?*'  Murat  exclaimed,  referring  to  his  own 

"  Oh,  Achille  will  make  a  good  soldier,"  answered  Na- 
poleon laughing,  and  when  he  saw  the  black  looks  of  both 
Caroline  and  Murat,  he  added :  "  At  all  events,  my  poor 
little  one,  I  advise  you,  if  you  want  to  live,  to  accept  no 
meals  that  your  cousins  offer  you." 

In  spite  of  all  the  plotting  and  protesting  of  the  Bona- 
partes,  Josephine  was  proclaimed  Empress,  and  the  law  of 
succession  was  passed  as  it  pleased  Napoleon : — "  The 
French  people  desire  the  inheritance  of  the  Imperial  dignity 
in  the  direct  natural  or  adoptive  line  of  descent  from  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte  and  in  the  direct  natural,  legitimate  line 
of  descent  from  Joseph  Bonaparte  and  from  Louis  Bona- 
parte." Napoleon  was  free  to  adopt  either  Eugene  or  Na- 
poleon-Charles and  make  him  his  heir.  The  law  mentioned 
neither  Joseph  nor  Louis  as  heir.  Josephine's  victory  in 
this  instance  was  as  much  due  to  the  fact  that  she  had  made 
no  protests  about  the  succession  and  had  asked  nothing,  as 
to  anything  else.  Her  seeming  confidence  (as  a  matter  of 
fact,  she  feared  the  worst  for  herself)  and  her  generous 
pleasure  in  the  satisfaction  those  about  took  in  their  new 


honors  offered  such  a  contrast  to  the  jealousy  and  fault- 
finding of  the  Bonapartes  that  Napoleon  felt  more  and 
more,  as  he  had  often  said  to  her  in  family  quarrels :  "  You 
are  my  only  comfort,  Josephine/'  Not  only  Josephine,  but 
Hortense  and  Eugene  showed  themselves  in  all  this  period 
wise  and  generous.  The  two  latter  apparently  felt  sin- 
cerely that  Napoleon  did  more  for  them  than  they  had 
a  right  to  expect.  The  gratitude  and  disinterestedness  they 
showed  was  indeed  one  of  the  few  real  satisfactions  of  Na- 
poleon's life,  for  he  seems  to  have  believed  always  that  they 
were  genuine,  something  he  never  felt  about  the  expressions 
of  his  own  family. 

Not  only  was  the  law  of  succession  fixed  to  Josephine's 
satisfaction;  but  to  her  unspeakable  joy,  Napoleon  finally 
told  her  that  she  was  to  be  crowned  at  the  same  time  as  he. 
In  the  new  government  she  had  no  political  rights,  but  in 
this  supreme  ceremony  she  should  share.  Here  again  it  may 
have  been  as  much  family  opposition  as  love  for  Josephine 
and  desire  to  associate  her  with  himself  in  this  greatest  of 
royal  spectacles  that  finally  led  Napoleon  to  this  decision. 
Just  as  before  the  proclamation  of  the  Empire  the  Bona- 
partes quarreled  about  the  succession,  now  they  tormented 
the  Emperor  about  their  positions  and  their  privileges.  *'  One 
would  think,"  he  said  testily  one  day  to  Caroline,  when  she 
was  upbraiding  him  for  not  according  to  his  sisters  the 
honors  due  them,  **  that  I  had  robbed  you  of  the  inheritance 
of  the  late  King,  our  father.'*  Joseph  did  not  hesitate  to 
say  sarcastic  things,  even  in  official  gatherings,  about  the 
impropriety  of  crowning  a  woman  who  had  given  her  hus- 
band no  successor.  Napoleon  stood  it  for  some  time,  and 
finally  in  a  violent  outburst  of  passion  silenced  him,  at  least 
for  the  time.  The  announcement  that  Josephine  was  to  be 
crowned,  and  that  her  sisters-in-law  were  to  carry  the  train 


of  her  robe,  caused  still  further  heart-burnings,  but  the  fiat 
had  gone  forth  and  everybody  finally  submitted. 

However,  the  new  court  was  too  busy  in  the  summer  and 
fall  of  1804  to  give  overmuch  time  to  quarreling.  The  mere 
matter  of  familiarizing  themselves  with  the  new  code  of 
etiquette  sufficiently  well  not  to  incur  the  ridicule  of  those 
who  had  been  brought  up  to  court  usages,  was  serious 
enough  to  absorb  most  of  their  time  and  energies.  They 
succeeded  fairly  well,  though  the  aristocrats  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  told  endless  tales  of  the  blunders  they  made, 
stories  which  were  circulated  industriously  in  the  courts  of 
Europe.  Their  failure  was  not  for  lack  of  effort,  however. 
Josephine  and  her  ladies  took  up  the  code  with  energy — it 
was  a  new  amusement,  and  for  weeks  they  studied  their  parts 
and  went  through  their  rehearsals  as  if  they  were  preparing 
a  play  for  the  stage.  Before  the  time  of  the  coronation  they 
had  become  fairly  at  home  with  court  usages  and  were  ready 
to  take  up  the  rehearsals  for  that  ceremony  with  fresh  en- 

Indeed,  for  a  month  at  least,  all  Paris  was  absorbed  in 
preparations  for  the  coronation.  Fontainebleau  was  to  be 
put  in  order  to  receive  the  Pope.  Notre  Dame,  where  the 
ceremony  was  to  take  place,  was  to  be  superbly  decorated. 
Magnificent  carriages  and  trappings  for  horses  and  livery 
were  to  be  provided.  Robes  and  uniforms  were  to  be  made 
ready  for  the  actors.  All  of  the  decorators,  jewelers,  cos- 
tume-makers, merchants  of  all  sorts  in  the  city  were  busy 
night  and  day.  As  for  the  court  itself,  there  one  heard  noth- 
ing talked  but  the  coming  spectacle.  Under  the  direction  of 
the  Grand  Master,  the  ceremonies  had  been  planned  down  to 
the  most  trivial  detail,  and  everybody  was  busy  learning  and 
practicing  his  part. 

By  the  time  the  Pope  arrived  at  Fontainebleau,  on  Novem- 

T^ame  at   ll.r  lime  of  Jot 

c  hy   David  in  th«  Calbcilnl  of  Xoln 

in  the  MuKum  of  \ 


ber  25,  everything  was  practically  ready.  The  court  had 
gone  to  Fontainebleau  to  meet  His  Holiness,  and  in  the  few 
days  it  remained  there  before  going  to  Paris,  Josephine 
achieved  a  victory  which  completed  her  happiness  for  the 
time.  No  religious  marriage  between  her  and  Napoleon 
had  ever  been  celebrated,  and  although  it  had  been  a  part  of 
Napoleon's  policy  since  he  came  into  power  to  restore  the 
church,  and  although  he  had  insisted  on  an  observation  of 
all  its  ceremonies,  he  had  always  refused  Josephine's  request 
for  a  religious  marriage.  Now,  however,  she  obtained  a 
powerful  advocate — the  Pope — to  whom,  at  confession,  she 
told  her  trouble.  He  declared  he  could  not  officiate  at  the 
coronation  unless  a  religious  marriage  was  performed.  The 
night  before  the  coronation.  Napoleon  gave  his  consent,  and 
the  service  was  held  at  the  Tuileries  in  profound  secresy, 
only  two  witnesses  being  present. 

December  2nd  had  been  set  for  the  coronation.  The 
Tuileries,  from  which  the  royal  party  was  to  go  to  Notre 
Dame,  was  astir  very  early,  for  the  Pope  was  to  leave  the 
palace  at  nine;  the  Emperor  and  Empress  an  hour  later. 
The  morning  was  given  to  dressing — a  long  task  in  Jo- 
sephine's case,  but  one  which  justified  the  labor  and  thought 
which  had  been  given  to  her  costume.  Never  had  she  looked 
more  beautiful  than  when  she  joined  the  Emperor  and  her 
ladies.  Napoleon  was  delighted  at  her  appearance,  and 
Mme.  de  Remusat  declared  that  she  did  not  look  over 

Josephine's  coronation  gown  was  of  white  satin,  elab- 
orately embroidered  in  silver  and  gold;  it  hung  from  the 
shoulders,  and  was  confined  by  a  girdle  set  with  gems.  A 
train  of  white  velvet  embroidered  in  gold  and  silver  was  fas- 
tened to  this  gown.  The  neck  was  low  and  square,  and  the 
sleeves  were  long.  A  ruff,  stiff  with  gold,  was  set  into  the 
top  of  the  sleeves,  and  rose  high  behind  her  head.     The  nar- 


row  corsage  and  the  top  of  the  sleeves  were  decorated  with 
diamonds.  She  wore  a  magnificent  necklace  of  sculptured 
stones  surrounded  with  diamonds,  and  on  her  head  was  a 
diadem  of  pearls  and  diamonds.  Her  shoes  were  of  white 
velvet,  embroidered  in  gold;  on  her  hands  she  wore  white 
gloves,  embroidered  in  gold.  The  cost  of  the  pieces  of  this 
costume  are  interesting — the  gow^n  is  estimated  to  have  cost 
$2,000;  the  velvet  train,  $1,400;  the  shoes,  $130. 

The  pontifical  procession  had  been  gone  from  the  Palace 
over  an  hour  when  Napoleon  and  Josephine,  accompanied  by 
Joseph  and  Louis  Bonaparte,  descended,  and  entered  the  gor- 
geous state  carriage  drawn  by  eight  horses  in  rich  harness. 
As  the  sides  of  the  vehicle  were  entirely  of  glass,  the  spec- 
tators could  look  easily  upon  the  magnificence  of  the  party 
inside.  From  the  Tuileries,  the  party  proceeded  slowly  to 
the  Archbishop's  palace,  along  streets  crowded  with  people 
and  decorated  with  every  device  which  skill  and  money  could 
provide.  During  the  entire  procession,  salvos  of  artillery 
at  intervals  greeted  the  Emperor.  At  the  palace  of  the 
Archbishop,  the  party  entered,  and  here  Napoleon  put  on 
his  coronation  robe  and  Josephine  finished  her  costume  by 
changing  her  diadem  for  one  of  amethysts  and  by  fastening 
to  her  left  shoulder  a  royal  mantle  of  red  velvet,  embroidered 
in  golden  bees  and  in  the  imperial  N  surrounded  by  garlands, 
and  bordered  and  lined  with  ermine.  This  mantle  fell  from 
the  shoulders,  and  trailed  for  fully  two  yards  on  the  floor. 

These  changes  of  toilet  made,  the  cortege  started — ^pages, 
cuirassiers  and  heralds,  the  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies  and 
his  aides, — a  marshal  bearing  a  cushion  on  which  was  placed 
the  ring  for  the  Empress,  another  marshal  carrying  the 
crown  on  a  cushion.  Following  the  Empress  and  her  at- 
tendants, came  the  cortege  of  the  Emperor;  first  the  mar- 
shals bearing  the  crown,  sceptre,  and  sword  of  Charlemagne, 
and  the  ring  and  globe  belonging  to  Napoleon;    then  the 


Emperor,  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  gold  laurel  leaves,  the 
sceptre  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  baton — emblem  of 
justice,  his  heavy  royal  mantle  carried  by  several  princes,  a 
guard  of  richly  dressed  ornamental  personages  following. 

On  entering  the  cathedral,  both  the  Emperor  and  the  Em- 
press were  presented  with  holy  water,  and  then  began  their 
slow  journey  up  the  aisle  of  the  cathedral  to  the  high  altar, 
where  the  service  took  place.  The  sceptre,  crown,  sword, 
ring  and  globe  of  the  Emperor  were  placed  upon  the  altar, 
and  beside  them  were  placed  the  crown,  ring,  and  mantle  of 
the  Empress.  The  Pope  then  anointed  the  Emperor's  head 
and  hands  with  oil,  and  the  same  service  was  used  immedi- 
ately after  in  anointing  Josephine.  The  mass  followed, 
during  which  the  Pope  blessed  the  imperial  ornaments  of 
both  Napoleon  and  Josephine. 

At  the  close  of  this  service,  the  Emperor  .mounted  the  steps 
to  the  altar,  on  which  the  imperial  crown  was  placed,  lifted 
it,  and  put  it  himself  on  his  head ;  then  taking  the  crown  of 
the  Empress  in  his  hands,  he  descended  the  steps  to  the  place 
where  Josephine  was  kneeling.  With  a  gesture  at  once  so 
gentle  and  so  proud  that  it  impressed  the  whole  splendid  au- 
dience, he  put  the  crown  upon  her  head,  while  the  Pope  pro- 
nounced the  orison :  "  May  God  crown  you  with  the  crown 
of  glory  and  justice;  may  He  give  you  strength  and  courage 
that,  through  this  benediction,  and  by  your  own  faith  and  the 
multiplied  fruits  of  your  good  works,  you  may  attain  the 
crown  of  the  eternal  kingdom,  through  the  grace  of  Him 
whose  reign  and  empire  extends  from  age  to  age." 

As  the  last  words  of  the  prayer  died  away  the  cortege 
turned  from  the  high  altar  and  proceeded  slowly  down  the 
nave  to  the  point  where  the  throne  had  been  placed.  At  the 
top  of  a  staircase  of  some  twenty-nine  steps  was  a  large 
platform,  on  which  a  sumptuous  arm-chair,  richly  decorated 
w  ith  embroideries  and  golden  symbols,  had  been  placed  for 


Napoleon.  To  the  right  of  this  seat,  and  one  step  lower, 
was  a  smaller  chair,  with  similar  decorations,  for  Josephine. 
The  Emperor  and  Empress  mounted  the  steps  and  seated 
themselves.  They  were  followed  by  the  Pope,  who  blessed 
them,  and  then,  kissing  the  Emperor  on  the  cheek,  turned  to 
the  assembly,  and  pronounced  the  words,  ""  Vivat  imperator 
in  crternum,"  The  Tc  Dciim,  the  prayers,  the  reading  of 
the  Scriptures,  the  offering,  followed;  and  then,  the  mass 
finished,  the  oath  taken.  Napoleon  and  Josephine  descended 
and  attended  by  their  suites,  left  the  cathedral,  and  entered 
their  carriage.  The  ceremony,  from  the  time  of  leaving  the 
Tuileries,  had  taken  five  hours.  It  was  three  and  a  half 
hours  more  before  the  long  procession  was  ended  and  they 
were  back  again  in  the  palace. 

That  night  Napoleon  and  Josephine  dined  alone,  the  Em- 
press wearing  her  crown,  at  her  husband's  request,  so  pleased 
was  he  with  the  grace  and  dignity  with  which  she  carried  it. 



CONSKCRATED  by  the  Pope,  crowned  by  Napoleon, 
J(>sci)hine*s  i)osition  seemed  impregnable  in  the  eyes 
of  all  the  world.  It  was  one  (^f  dazzling  splendor. 
The  little  Creole  whose  youth  had  been  spent  in  a  sugar- 
house,  who  had  passed  months  in  a  prison  cell,  who  many  a 
time  had  lH>rrowed  money  to  pay  her  rent,  now  had  become 
tlic  mistress,  not  of  a  palace,  but  of  palaces — oi  Fontaine- 
bleau,  the  Tuileries,  Versailles,  Ramlx>uillet.  She  who  for 
Si^  manv  vears  had  In^irijeil  favi^rs  at  the  doors  of  others, 
was  now  the  center  of  a  great  machine,  called  a  **  House- 
hold,** ilevoieil  to  serving  her.  There  were  a  First  Almoner, 
a  Maiil  of  Hom^r,  a  I^uly  of  the  Bedchamber,  numbers  of 
Ladies  of  the  Palace,  a  First  Chaml^rlain,  a  First  Equer>\  a 
Private  Secretary,  a  Cliief  Steward — all  of  them  having  their 
resjHVtive  attemlants:  anil  there  were,  l^sides  these,  va!e:>. 
fivtmen,  jvages.  anil  servaius  of  all  grades.  Her  life,  so 
IvMig  \Mie  of  unthinking  freevlom,  was  now  regfulatevl  to  the 
las:  detail.  The  a|xinments  in  tlie  palace  devotev!  to  her  own 
uses  were  tw^^ — the  aiKinment  of  honor  and  the  private 
ajKirtment.  IVfv^re  the  vl»>v^r  .^f  :!:e  ante-c!:art:Vr  ^f  :::e 
ai^artUKtU  of  hvMior  st^vxi.  day  and  night,  a  d>?r-keeper: 
\\i*J**n  were  four  va'ers,  two  *:rrV.c:Vr^»\  :\v^  rvi^res  :  ! 
errands^,  frv^m  twelve  to  twenty-six  fx^tmen.  ready  to  do 
hv^nor  to  the  incv^mmg  anvi  outgv.^:ng  guests.  In  the  salens. 
whet^  visitors  watte*.!,  were  -^ther  decorative  fx^tnter.  ir^i 
pages — a  retir.ite  ten  ttm«es  larger  than  acrjal  sen.-iof  r 


quired,  but  none  too  large  to  the  eye  accustomed  to  court 
etiquette.  It  was  through  this  hedge  of  attendants  that  the 
suppHcant,  flatterer  or  friend  who  would  see  Josephine  now 
must  work  his  way — a  slow  way,  often  only  to  be  made  by 
fair  address,  strong  relations,  and  judicious  gifts.  Jo- 
sephine by  nature  the  most  accessible  of  mortals,  was  now 
obliged  to  turn  away  old  friends  because  they  did  not  please 
His  Majesty,  the  Emperor.  That  he  was  oftentimes  quite 
right,  the  following  frank  little  letter  of  hers  shows : — 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  dear  friend,  that  my  wishes  cannot  be 
fulfilled,  as  you  and  my  other  old  friends  imagine  they  can. 
You  seem  to  think  that  if  I  do  not  see  you  it  is  because  I 
have  forgotten  you.  Alas !  no,  on  the  contrary,  my  memory 
is  more  tenacious  than  I  wish.  The  more  I  think  of 
what  I  am,  the  more  I  am  mortified  at  not  being  able  to 
obey  the  dictates  of  my  heart.  The  Empress  of  France  is 
the  veriest  slave  in  the  Empire,  and  she  cannot  acquit  the 
debt  which  Madame  de  Beauharnais  owes.  This  makes 
me  miserable,  and  it  will  explain  why  you  are  not  near  me; 
why  I  do  not  see  Madame  Tallien ;  why,  in  short,  many  of 
my  former  friends  would  be  forgotten  by  me,  but  that  my 
memory  is  faithful. 

**  The  Emperor,  displeased  at  the  prevailing  laxity  of 
morals,  and  anxious  to  check  its  progress,  wishes  that  his 
palace  should  present  an  example  of  virtuous  and  religious 
conduct.  Anxious  to  consolidate  the  religion  which  he  has 
restored,  and  having  no  power  to  alter  laws  to  which  he  has 
given  his  assent,  he  has  determined  to  exclude  from  Court 
all  persons  who  have  taken  advantage  of  the  law  of  divorce. 
He  has  given  this  promise  to  the  Pope,  and  he  cannot  break 
it.  This  reason  alone  has  obliged  him  to  refuse  the  favor 
I  solicited  of  having  you  about  me.  His  refusal  afflicts  me, 
but  it  is  too  positive  to  admit  of  any  hope  of  its  being  re- 


The  apartment  of  honor  was  devoted  to  receiving,  and 
Josephine's  movements  there  were  prescribed  in  detail.  The 
costume  she  should  wear,  the  chair  in  which  she  should  sit, 
the  rank  of  the  person  who  should  be  allowed  in  the  room 
when  she  received,  who  should  announce,  who  carry  a  note, 
who  bring  a  glass  of  water,  all  of  this  was  ordered  and  per- 
formed precisely.  In  her  private  apartment  there  was 
greater  appearance  of  freedom,  though  it  was  arranged  by 
the  code  at  what  hour  she  should  take  her  morning  cup  of 
tea  and  by  whose  hand  it  should  be  presented,  who  should 
admit  her  pet  dog,  what  should  be  her  costume  for  the  morn- 
ing, and  who  should  arrange  it. 

AVhen  the  Empress  left  the  palace,  the  forms  were  multi- 
pHed.  Attended  by  her  ladies  of  waiting,  she  passed  over  a 
carpet  spread  for  her  passage,  through  the  file  of  liveried 
servants  which  decorated  all  the  apartments.  Before  her 
marched  the  younger  of  the  two  pretty  pages  always  waiting 
in  the  outer  salon,  while  the  elder  bore  the  train  of  her  robe. 
At  the  door,  the  magnificent  portier  d'appartcmcvit  struck 
the  floor  with  his  halberd  as  she  passed.  One  of  the  dozen 
carriages  in  her  stables  drawn  usually  by  eight  horses 
awaited  her.  Before,  leside,  and  behind  as  she  drove  were 
servants  in  gorgeous  livery,  mounted  or  afoot;  a  brilliant 
spectacle  for  the  passer-by,  but  a  wearisome  one  for  poor 

It  was  no  better  when  she  travelled,  as  she  did  a  great 
deal,  especially  in  the  first  two  years  after  the  coronation. 
Thus  in  the  spring  of  1805,  she  accompanied  Napoleon  to 
Milan,  where  he  was  to  be  crowned  King  of  Italy.  The 
journey  was  a  long  series  of  brilliant  functions — ^at  Lyons,  a 
triumphal  arch,  a  reception  by  the  Empress,  an  entertain- 
ment at  the  theater ;  at  Turin,  flattering  ceremonies;  on  the 
field  of  Marengo,  mimic  manoeuvres  of  the  battle,  led  by 
Murat,  Lannes,  and  Bessieres,  and  watched  by  Napoleon 


and  Josephine  from  a  throne,  and  after  the  manoeuvres,  the 
laying  of  a  corner-stone  to  those  who  lost  their  lives  on  the 
field;  at  Milan,  on  May  26,  the  coronation  of  Napoleon, 
which  Josephine  watched  from  the  gallery  of  the  cathedral, 
followed  by  splendid  public  fetes  lasting  for  days ;  a  mimic 
representation  on  the  battlefield  of  Castiglione;  visits  to 
Bologna,  Modena,  Parma,  Geneva,  Turin,  all  attended  by 
the  most  extravagant  festivities.  This  journey  lasted  from 
April  4th  to  July  i8th,  the  date  of  their  return  to  St.  Cloud, 
and  through  it  all  Josephine  was  scarcely  free  for  an  hour 
from  the  fatiguing  duties  of  a  great  sovereign. 

Napoleon  returned  to  Paris  from  Italy  to  prepare  for  war 
with  Austria,  and  in  September  he  set  out  on  the  campaign. 
Josephine  went  with  him  as  far  as  Strasburg,  where  she  trans- 
ferred her  household  to  the  Imperial  Palace  which  had  been 
established  there  for  Napoleon's  use.  For  two  months  she 
remained  at  Strasburg,  while  Napoleon  dazzled  Europe  by 
the  campaign  which,  on  Dec.  2nd,  culminated  at  Austerlitz. 
Alone  she  conducted  her  court  as  she  would  have  done  in 
Paris,  as  magnificently  and  as  brilliantly.  In  November,  she 
left  Strasburg  to  go  to  Munich — a  triumphal  march,  really, 
for  everywhere  she  received  royal  honors.  Her  approach  to 
every  city  through  which  she  was  to  pass  en  route  was  an- 
nounced by  the  ringing  of  bells  and  salvos  of  artillery ;  great 
processions  of  dignitaries  went  out  to  meet  her;  arches  of 
triumph  were  erected  for  her;  beautiful  gifts  were  presented; 
there  were  illuminations,  balls,  and  state  performances  of 
all  sorts.  She  reached  Munich  on  December  5th,  and  here 
remained  until  after  January  14th,  on  which  day  another 
great  ceremony,  her  son's  marriage  with  Princess  Augusta 
of  Baden,  was  celebrated. 

From  the  manner  of  its  arrangement  one  might  have  ex- 
pected nothing  but  misery  from  this  alliance.  The  young 
princess  was  violently  opposed  to  it,  and  only  consented  at 



her  father's  entreaty — *'  a  sacrifice  to  father,  family  and 
country/'  she  said.  Eugene  knew  nothing  of  the  proi)osed 
marriage  until  he  arrived,  at  Napoleon's  order,  in  Munich. 
The  two  young  people  never  saw  each  other  until  four  days 
before  the  wedding.  Fortunately  they  fell  in  love  at  once, 
and  their  married  life  was  one  of  exceptional  devotion  and 
happiness.  Napoleon  was  so  pleased  with  the  course  things 
took  that  he  adopted  Eugene  at  the  time  of  the  celebration  of 
the  marriage — a  great  blow  to  the  Bonapartes  and  a  new 
happiness  for  Josephine. 

The  fatiguing  duties  attendant  upon  official  journeys  in 
foreign  countries  and  upon  holding  a  court  in  a  strange  city 
were  repeated  again  in  1806.  In  January,  after  Eugene's 
marriage,  Josephine  came  back  to  Paris  with  the  Emperor; 
but  in  September  he  left  for  the  campaign  against  Prussia 
and  Russia,  and  she  went  to  Mayence  to  establish  her  court. 
This  time  the  journey  w^as  not  according  to  the  code,  for 
Napoleon  had  wished  the  Empress  to  remain  in  Paris  during 
his  absence,  and  it  was  only  at  the  last  moment  that,  over- 
come by  her  grief,  he  consented  that  she  go  with  him  in  his 
carriage.  Only  a  single  maid  accompanied  her — the  royal 
household  not  being  able  to  start  its  cumbersome  self  for 
several  days.  At  Mayence  Josephine  remained  until  Janu- 
ary. Hortense,  now  Queen  of  Holland  (Louis  had  been 
made  King  in  1806),  was  with  her,  with  her  two  little  sons, 
and  in  many  w^ays  the  court  was  agreeable;  but  Josephine 
wished  to  join  the  Emperor,  and  it  was  only  w-hen  he  com- 
manded her  to  go  to  Paris,  that  she  consented  to  return  and 
open  her  court  there. 

The  tact  and  good  sense  with  which  Josephine  conducted 
herself  in  her  exacting  and  slavish  position — the  grace  and 
patience  with  which  she  wore  her  royal  harness,  are  as  pa- 
thetic as  they  are  marvelous.  To  rule  her  household,  with 
all  the  jealousies  and  meannesses  natural  to  such  a  combi- 


nation  of  women,  so  that  there  would  be  no  scandals,  and 
that  the  members  would  respect  and  love  her,  was  a  delicate 
task;  but  she  never  failed  in  it.  She  kept  their  love,  and 
she  kept  her  supremacy— even  the  supremacy  of  beauty. 
There  were  many  of  the  young  women  received  by  the  First 
Consul  who  were  glad  enough  to  try  to  outshine  Josephine ; 
but  she  almost  always  outwitted  them.  An  amusing 
example  of  her  skill  is  an  encounter  that  occurred  between 
her  and  her  sister-in-law,  Pauline.  Pauline,  who  was 
young,  vivacious,  and  very  pretty,  always  resented  a  little 
the  charm  that  Josephine  exercised,  and  she  took  no  small 
pleasure  in  trying  to  outdo  her.  In  1803,  she  was  mar- 
ried to  the  Prince  Borghese,  at  the  chateau  of  Joseph  Bona- 
parte, Mortefontaine.  A  few  days  after  her  marriage,  she 
appeared  in  Paris,  where  she  was  presented  officially  at 
St.  Cloud.  It  was  natural  enough  that  Pauline  should  de- 
sire to  outshine  everybody  at  this  presentation,  but  Josephine 
desired  particularly  that  she  herself  should  not  be  so  thrown 
into  the  shadow  that  Napoleon  would  notice  it.  She  did  a 
very  clever  thing.  Although  it  was  winter,  she  put  on  a 
light  robe  of  white  Indian  muslin,  the  garment  which  always 
became  her  best  and  in  which  Napoleon  delighted  to  see  her. 
The  gown  was  made  very  simply,  and  her  only  ornaments 
were  enamelled  lion's  heads  which  caught  up  the  sleeves  on 
her  shoulder  and  which  formed  a  buckle  to  her  girdle.  Her 
arms  and  neck  were  bare,  and  her  hair  was  done  on  the  top 
of  her  head.  She  made  an  altogether  charming  picture; 
and  when  the  First  Consul  saw  her,  he  said,  "  Why,  Jo- 
sephine, what  does  this  mean  ?  I  am  jealous,  you  have  got- 
ten yourself  up  for  somebody.  What  makes  you  so  beauti- 
ful to-day?"  Even  after  they  were  in  the  salon,  his  com- 
pliments continued.  The  Princess  Borghese  was  a  little  late 
in  arriving.  When  she  did  appear,  she  was  resplendent; 
her  dress  was  a  bright  green  velvet,  embroidered  with  dia- 


monds ;  at  her  side  was  a  great  bouquet  of  brilliants ;  on  her 
head,  a  diadem  of  emeralds  and  diamonds.  Josephine  in  her 
simple  robe  stood  at  the  end  of  the  salon  waiting  exactly  as 
if  she  had  been  a  sovereign,  to  let  her  sister-in-law  come  to 
her.  Pauline  was  obliged  to  go  the  length  of  the  salon  to 
salute  her.  After  the  presentation,  she  said  to  Madame 
Junot,  who  tells  the  story,  *'  My  sister-in-law  thought  she 
would  be  disagreeable  when  she  made  me  cross  the  salon ;  in 
fact,  she  delighted  me,  because  otherwise  the  train  of  my 
gown  could  not  have  been  seen.**  Presently,  however,  Pau- 
line w^as  thrown  into  despair.  She  had  forgotten  entirely 
that  the  grand  salon  where  they  were  received  was  furnished 
in  blue,  and  that  while  it  made  a  charming  background  for 
Josephine's  white  muslin,  for  her  green  velvet  it  was  some- 
thing deplorable.  Josephine,  of  course,  could  not  be  accused 
of  having  planned  this :  it  was  Pauline's  own  forgetfulness 
which  had  wrought  her  confusion.  The  white  gown  and 
the  regal  manner  were  a  favorite  device  of  Josephine  when 
she  suspected  that  some  young  and  fascinating  woman  was 
preparing  to  outshine  her. 

One  very  difficult  task  for  Josephine  in  her  court  was 
holding  her  own  with  the  women  of  noble  birth  who  were 
gradually  being  admitted,  but  she  did  it  by  a  combination  of 
graciousness,  deference,  and  majesty  which  was  not  to  be 
analyzed,  and  which  only  an  all  but  infinite  tact  explain.  It 
was  tact  born  of  good-will — a  good-will  which  everybody 
about  her  admitted.  "  No  one  ever  denied  the  exquisite 
goodness  of  Madame  Bonaparte,"  Mile.  Avrillon  says. 
'*  She  was  extremely  affable  with  everybody  about  her.  I 
do  not  believe  that  there  ever  was  a  woman  who  made  her 
companions  feel  their  dependence  less  than  she."  Madame 
de  Remusat  says  that  to  goodness  she  joined  a  remarkably 
even  disposition,  and  the  faculty  of  forgetting  any  evil  that 
anv  one  had  done  to  her.     Another  member  of  her  house- 


hold  has  said  of  her  goodness,  that  it  was  as  inseparable 
from  her  character  as  grace  from  her  person;  "she  was 
good  to  excess,  sensitive  beyond  all  expression,  generous  to 
prodigality ;  she  tried  to  make  everybody  happy  about  her, 
and  no  woman  was  ever  more  loved  by  those  who  served  her 
and  merited  it  more.  ...  As  she  had  known  unhappiness, 
she  knew  how  to  sympathize  with  the  troubles  of  others. 
Her  temper  was  always  sweet,  always  even,  as  obliging  for 
her  enemies  as  for  her  friends;  she  made  peace  wherever 
there  was  trouble  or  discord." 

Josephine  was  no  less  happy  when  on  her  journeys  than  at 
home.  She  won  everybody.  No  one  was  presented  who 
did  not  go  away  feeling  that  in  some  way  the  Empress  had 
especially  distinguished  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  pre- 
pared herself  carefully  for  her  meetings  with  foreigners  by 
employing  an  instructor  who  informed  her  about  their  fami- 
lies, their  deeds,  their  books,  their  diplomatic  victories.  She 
mastered  this  instruction  so  thoroughly  that  she  always  had 
some  flattering  reference  at  her  tongue's  end.  The  diligence 
and  energy  she  showed  in  preparing  herself  for  official  func- 
tions is  the  more  surprising  when  one  remembers  her  nat- 
ural indolence. 

Josephine  had  few  resources  in  which  she  could  find  relief 
from  her  burden  of  etiquette.  She  cared  little  for  books — 
out-of-door  sports  wearied  her,  and  the  hunt,  on  which  she 
often  accompanied  the  Emperor,  was  a  sore  trial.  She  was 
afraid,  to  begin  with,  and  she  never  failed  to  cry  over  a 
wounded  beast.  She  was  a  poor  musician.  She  embroid- 
ered, to  be  sure,  but  not  because  she  cared  for  it,  she  did  like 
cards,  and  played  tric-trac  whenever  etiquette  allowed  it. 
She  played  a  good  hand  of  whist,  too;  and  she  was  very 
fond  of  telling  her  own  fortune  with  cards — hardly  a  day 
passed,  indeed,  that  she  did  not  try  to  read  the  future  from 


The  one  real  pleasure  in  her  life  was  undoubtedly  her 
toilet.  She  had  always  beeti  extravagantly  fond  of  personal 
decoration — she  loved  brilliant  stones,  gay  silks,  fine  laces,  ^ 
soft  cashmeres;  and  when  she  found  herself  an  Empress, 
with  every  reason  and  every  opportunity  for  indulging  her 
love  of  finery,  she  abandoned  herself  to  the  pleasure  until 
her  wardrobe  became  the  chief  amusement  of  her  life. 

Almost  every  day  men  and  women,  bearing  stuffs  of  all 
sorts — jewels,  models,  laces,  ever\lhing,  in  short,  that 
French  fancy  could  devise  for  a  woman's  toilet — found  their 
way  to  Josephine's  private  apartments.  Before  these  wily 
tradespeople  she  had  no  self-restraint — one  should  say,  per- 
haps, no  self-respect, — for  almost  invariably  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  wheedled  into  buying.  The  numbers  of  pieces 
added  to  her  wardrobe  each  year  indicates  a  startling 
prodigality.  Thus,  in  one  year,  she  bought  one  hundred 
and  thirty-six  dresses,  twenty  cashmere  shawls,  seventy- 
three  corsets,  forty-eight  pieces  of  elegant  stuffs,  eighty- 
seven  hats,  seventy-one  pairs  of  silk  stockings,  nine  hundred 
and  eighty  pairs  of  gloves,  five  hundred  and  twenty  pairs  of 
shoes.  If  this  had  been  an  unusual  purchase,  it  might  be 
explained ;  but  it  was  not.  With  every  season  there  was  the 
same  thoughtless  buying  of  all  that  struck  her  fancy.  It  was 
out  of  the  question  for  her  to  wear  all  she  bought,  for  Jo- 
sephine was  not  one  who  prided  herself  on  never  appearing 
twice  in  the  same  costume.  Many  of  the  things  she  bought 
she  never  put  on  at  all ;  and  when  her  wardrobes  were  over- 
burdened, she  made  a  little  fete  of  the  task  of  lightening 
them,  giving  away  piece  after  piece  of  uncut  lace,  pattern 
after  pattern  of  velvet,  silk  or  muslin,  rich  gowns,  hats, 
stockings,  shoes.  Anything  and  everything  was  scattered 
in  the  same  reckless  fashion  in  which  it  had  been  acquired. 
Not  that  her  giving  of  personal  articles  was  confined  to  this 
occasional  clearing  out  of  stock ;  she  gave  as  one  of  her  royal 


prerogatives,  whenever  it  pleased  her  to  do  so.  Often  she 
took  from  her  shoulders  a  delicatfe  scarf  or  superb  cashmere 
shawl  to  throw  about  some  one  of  her  ladies  whom  she  heard 
admiring  it,  and  not  infrequently  she  sent  a  gown  to  one  who 
had  complimented  her  on  its  beauty.  Mile.  Ducrest  says  that 
one  day  she  heard  a  gentleman  of  the  household,  in  admiring 
a  cashmere  gown  which  the  Empress  wore,  remark  that  the 
pattern  would  do  very  well  for  a  waistcoat.  Josephine  picked 
up  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  cutting  the  skirt  of  her  dress  into 
three  pieces,  gave  one  to  each  of  the  three  gentlemen  in  the 

Josephine's  prodigality  caused  great  confusion  in  her 
budget.  She  was  allowed,  at  the  beginning  of  her  reign, 
$72,000  a  year  for  her  toilet,  and  later  this  was  increased  to 
$90,000.  But  there  was  never  a  year  during  the  time  that 
she  did  not  far  over-reach  her  allowance  and  oblige  the  Em- 
peror to  come  to  her  relief.  According  to  the  estimate  Mas- 
son  has  made,  Josephine  spent  on  an  average  $220,000 
yearly  on  her  toilet  during  her  reign.  It  is  only  by  going 
over  her  wardrobe  article  by  article  and  noting  the  cost  and 
number  of  each  piece  that  one  can  realize  how  a  woman  could 
spend  this  amount.  Take  the  simple  item  of  her  hose — which 
were  almost  always  white  silk,  often  richly  embroidered  or 
in  open  work.  She  kept  150  or  more  pairs  on  hand,  and 
they  cost  from  $4.00  to  $8.00  a  pair.  She  employed  two 
hair-dressers — one  for  every-day,  at  $1,200  a  year;  the  other 
for  great  occasions,  at  $2,000  a  year;  and  she  paid  them 
each  from  one  thousand  to  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  for 
furnishings.  It  was  the  same  for  all  the  smaller  items  of 
her  toilet. 

Coming  to  gowns,  the  sums  they  cost  were  enormous. 
Her  simple  muslin  gowns,  of  which  her  wardrobe  always 
contained  two  hundred  and  more,  cost  from  one  hundred  to 
four   hundred   dollars   apiece.     Her   cashmere   and   velvet 


gowns  were  much  more  costly,  ornamented  as  many  of  them 
were  with  ermine  and  with  buckles,  buttons,  and  girdles  set 
with  preci^s  stones.  One  of  her  great  extravagances  was 
cashmere  shawls.  She  never  had  enough  of  them — it  is 
true  she  gave  away  many — and  she  rarely  appeared  without 
one  within  reach.  Her  collection  of  shawls  is  said  to  have 
been  the  most  valuable  ever  seen  in  Europe.  Many  of  them 
were  made  after  patterns  which  she  sent  herself  to  the 
Orient.  They  were  of  every  delicate  shade  of  color,  and  in 
texture  they  were  like  gossamer.  Her  coquetry  with  these 
beautiful  drapes  was  like  the  coquetry  of  the  Spanish  sig- 
nora  with  a  fan.     She  said  everything  with  them. 

A  large  lump  of  Josephine's  yearly  allowance  for  dress 
went  into  jewels.  Her  extravagance  in  this  particular  was 
less  justifiable  than  in  any  other,  because  she  already  owned 
a  large  quantity  of  precious  stones  of  all  sorts  when  she  be- 
came Empress,  many  of  them  gifts  to  her  in  Italy,  and  be- 
cause as  Empress  she  had  at  her  command  the  magnificent 
crown  jewels — $1,000,000  worth  of  gems,  in  fact,  were  hers 
when  she  wished.  Nevertheless,  she  bought^-evidently  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  buying  and  laying  away — innumerable 
ornaments  of  every  description,  scores  of  which  she  probably 
never  put  on;  rings,  bracelets,  necklaces,  girdles,  buckles, 
all  by  the  hundreds.  No  stone  known  to  commerce  but 
was  represented  in  her  collection.  No  form  into  which 
gold  and  silver  can  be  fashioned  which  was  not  found  there. 
She  had  specimens  of  the  ornaments  of  all  ages  and  all 
countries,  and  of  the  novelties  of  the  times  she  bought  by 
the  score.  She  not  only  added  incessantly,  but  she  ex- 
changed, reset,  recut,  carried  on,  in  fact,  a  trade.  To  the 
end  of  her  life  she  kept  her  interest  in  her  jewels,  and  loved 
to  show  them  to  her  companions,  to  play  with  them,  to  deco- 
rate herself  with  them.  They  were  kept  together  for  many 
years  after  her  death,  but  were  finally  sold  by  Hortcnse. 


When  experts  came  to  value  them,  it  was  found  that  accord- 
ing to  the  prices  they  set — fully  one-third  below  the  cost 
price — the  large  pieces  alone,  such  as  her  diadem  of  dia- 
monds and  her  splendid  pearl  necklace,  were  worth  nearly  a 
million  dollars;  and  as  for  the  small  pieces — the  innumer- 
able trinkets  of  every  size  and  kind  and  style — their  value 
was  never  computed. 

The  effect  on  the  Emperor  of  Josephine's  prodigality  can 
be  imagined.  He  appreciated  as  she  never  could  the  lack 
of  dignity  in  her  reckless  spending,  and  did  his  utmost  to 
persuade  her  to  keep  her  accounts  in  order.  He  even  re- 
sorted to  severe  measures,  turning  out  of  the  palace  trades- 
people who  he  knew  hung  about  her  apartments  watching  an 
opportunity  to  show  her  a  novelty  in  modes  or  in  ornamenta- 
tion, a  rare  jewel  or  a  rich  shawl.  He  ordered  that  her  ex- 
penses be  regulated  by  a  person  especially  appointed  for  that 
purpose  and  that  Josephine  herself  be  not  allowed  to  buy 
anything  without  supervision.  None  of  these  means  effected 
anything.  Annually  there  was  a  great  debt  run  up  by  her, 
and  when  the  settlement  could  be  put  off  no  longer,  Jose- 
phine would  confess.  She  always  put  the  amount  far  below 
what  it  actually  was,  and  only  after  much  badgering  could 
Napoleon  get  at  the  real  state  of  things.  Then  there  was  a 
scene,  ending  always  in  tears  from  Josephine.  Invariably 
they  conquered  Napoleon.  **  Come,  come,  pet,  dry  your 
tears,"  he  would  beg,  *'  don't  worry ; ''  and  he  paid  the  debts, 
and  raised  her  income.  In  twelve  months  the  scene  was  re- 



FOR  two  years  after  she  mounted  the  throne,  Josephine 
felt  tolerably  secure  in  its  possession.  It  was  not 
until  the  winter  of  1806- 1807,  when  Napoleon  was 
busy  with  war  against  Russia  and  Prussia,  that  the  spectre 
which  had  alarmed  her  at  the  beginning  of  the  Life  Con- 
sulate and  again  at  the  proclamation  of  the  Empire,  arose 
again.  Her  first  alarm  came  from  the  fact  that  when  she 
wanted  to  go  to  the  Emperor  from  Mayence,  whither  she 
had  taken  her  household,  he  put  her  off.  Sometimes  he 
even  rebuked  her  for  her  persistence  in  clinging  to  the  idea. 
**  Talleyrand  comes,  and  tells  me  that  you  do  nothing  but 
cry,*'  he  wrote  her  on  November  ist.  *' But  what  do  you 
want?  You  have  your  daughter,  your  grandchildren,  and 
good  news ;  certainly  you  have  the  materials  for  happiness 
and  contentment."  More  often  he  flattered  and  petted,  as 
when,  on  November  28th,  he  wrote  from  Warsaw :  **  All  the 
Polish  women  are  Frenchwomen,  but  there  is  only  one  wo- 
man for  me.  Do  you  know  her  ?  I  could  draw  her  portrait 
for  you ;  but  I  should  have  to  flatter  it  too  much  for  you  to 
recognize  it ;  nevertheless,  to  tell  the  truth,  my  heart  would 
have  only  good  things  to  tell  you."  And  again,  a  few  days 
later :  "  I  have  vour  letter  of  November  26th.  I  notice  two 
things :  you  say,  *  I  don't  read  your  letters  ' ;  that  is  unjust.  I 
am  sorry  for  your  bad  opinion.     You  tell  me  you  are  not 



jealous.  I  have  long  observed  that  people  who  are  angry 
always  say  that  they  are  not  angry,  that  people  who  are 
afraid  say  they  are  not  afraid ;  so  you  are  convicted  of  jeal- 
ousy; I  am  delighted!  Besides,  you  are  mistaken,  and  in 
the  deserts  of  fair  Poland  one  thinks  but  little  alx)ut  pretty 
women.  Yesterday  I  was  at  a  ball  of  the  nobility  of  the 
province;  rather  pretty  women,  rather  rich,  rather  ill 
dressed,  although  in  the  Paris  fashion."  He  continued  all 
through  December  to  try  to  dissuade  her.  **  I  have  your 
letter  of  November  27th,  and  I  see  that  your  little  head  is 
much  excited.  I  remember  the  line :  *  A  woman's  wish  is  a 
devouring  flame,'  and  I  must  calm  you.  I  wrote  to  you  that  I 
was  in  Poland,  that  when  we  should  have  got  into  winter 
quarters  you  might  come;  so  you  must  wait  a  few  days. 
The  greater  one  becomes,  the  less  will  one  must  have ;  one 
depends  on  events  and  circumstances.  You  may  go  to 
Frankfurt  or  Darmstadt.  I  hope  to  summon  you  in  a  few 
days,  but  events  must  decide.  The  warmth  of  your  letter 
convinces  me  that  you  pretty  women  take  no  account  of  ob- 
stacles ;  what  you  want  must  be ;  but  I  must  say  that  I  am 
the  greatest  slave  that  lives ;  my  master  has  no  heart,  and 
this  master  is  the  nature  of  things.'' 

Josephine  would  not  give  up  her  plan,  however,  and  in 
Napoleon's  arguments  that  the  trip  from  Mayence  to  War- 
saw was  too  long — the  roads  too  bad,  the  weather  too  cold, 
for  her  to  venture  it,  that  she  was  needed  in  Paris,  she  saw 
only  a  desire  to  be  free  from  her  presence ;  and  when  finally 
he  ordered  her  to  **  go  back  to  Paris  to  be  happy  and  con- 
tented there,"  she  obeyed  with  tears  and  lamentations.  Jo- 
sephine's jealousy  at  this  time  was  more  than  justifiable. 
For  many  months,  in  fact,  she  had  known  beyond  question 
of  Napoleon's  various  infidelities,  and  she  suspected  that  the 
real  reason  he  refused  her  request  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  him 
was  that  he  had  found  a  new  mistress.     Or  might  it  not  be, 


she  asked  herself,  that  he  was  planning  a  divorce  and  re-mar- 
riage. The  first  supposition  was  true.  It  was  Madame 
Walewski  who  was  the  chief  obstacle  to  Josephine  going  to 
Warsaw,  although  the  reasons  Napoleon  gave — the  danger 
of  the  journey  and  the  need  of  Josephine  in  Paris — were 
plausible  enough  at  the  moment. 

It  was  not  until  July,  1807,  that  the  Emperor  took  up  the 
subject  of  a  divorce,  as  a  political  necessity,  with  his  coun- 
sellors. While  at  Tilsit  with  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the 
King  of  Prussia,  the  divorce  was  discussed,  and  Naix)leon 
ordered  that  a  list  of  the  marriageable  princesses  of  Europe 
be  made  out  for  him.  No  doubt  vague  rumors  of  the  trans- 
actions at  Tilsit  reached  Josephine.  She  took  them  the  more 
to  heart  because  in  May  of  that  year  ( 1807)  Hortense's  eld- 
est son,  Napoleon-Charles,  had  died.  The  death  of  the  boy 
destroyed  one  of  her  chief  hopes.  It  removed  the  child 
whom  she  knew  Napoleon  so  loved  that  he  would  have  been 
well  satisfied  to  have  made  him  his  successor.  Hortense 
had  a  second  child,  Napoleon-Louis;  but  the  Emperor  did 
not  have  the  same  feeling  for  him. 

When  Napoleon  returned  to  Paris  after  the  meeting  at 
Tilsit,  Josephine  was  prepared  to  do  all  that  was  possible  to 
reconquer  the  place  in  her  husband's  heart,  which  many 
months'  absence  had  certainly  weakened.  She  even  had 
Hortense's  little  son  Louis  with  her,  a  constant  reminder  to 
the  Empire  that  here  was  an  heir  of  Bonaparte  and  Beauhar- 
nais  blood.  Her  hopes  were  soon  shattered  by  Fouche,  who 
made  an  appeal  to  her.  For  the  sake  of  the  country,  the  dy- 
nasty. Napoleon,  would  she  not  herself  voluntarily  offer  to 
withdraw.  Panicstricken,  yet  not  daring  to  go  directly  to 
her  husband  to  know  if  this  was  his  will,  Josephine  could 
only  weep.  Napoleon  saw  her  sorrow,  but  had  not  the  cour- 
age to  talk  with  her.  Finally  Talleyrand,  taking  the  case  in 
hand,  persuaded  Josephine  to  speak  first  to  Napoleon.  Over- 


come  completely,  the  Emperor  feigned  amazement,  stormed 
at  the  baseness  of  Fouche,  wept  over  Josephine,  swore  he 
could  not  leave  her;  but  he  did  not  deceive  her — or  himself. 
Josephine  took  a  clever  course — she  told  him  she  would  con- 
sent to  his  will  quietly  for  love  of  him  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  throne — if  he  commanded  her.  But  that  Napoleon  could 
not  do.  He  ordered  that  the  question  of  divorce  be  dropped, 
gave  Fouche  such  treatment  as  perhaps  a  man  never  before 
received  for  carrying  out  his  superior's  will,  and  for  a  time 
bestowed  upon  Josephine  lover-like  attentions  so  marked 
that  the  whole  court  looked  on  and  wondered. 

The  fall  of  1807  the  Emperor  strove  to  make  very  gay, 
and  during  the  sojourns  at  Rambouillet  for  the  hunt  and  the 
month  at  Fontainebleau  the  Empress  was  really  at  the  height 
of  her  power.  He  could  not  give  her  up,  could  not,  in  spite 
of  his  dynasty,  in  spite  of  Mme.  Walewski,  the  woman  who 
had  sacrificed  herself  to  him  for  the  sake  of  Poland,  and 
for  whom  he  had  a  great  respect  as  well  as  ardent  passion. 
Josephine  was  necessary  to  him.  It  was  a  tenderness  born 
of  association — of  all  of  the  thousand  sweet  ties  which 
twelve  years  of  life  together  had  wrought.  What  matter  if 
she  was  growing  old;  what  matter  that  he  might  have  a 
royal  princess  for  his  wife — that  his  heart  was  with  Mme. 
Walewski,  it  was  Josephine,  and  no  one  ever  had  aroused 
such  a  wealth  of  tenderness  as  she — no  one  could  again. 
The  court  could  only  look  on  and  wonder  to  see  the  weak- 
ness of  the  tyrant  before  this  woman.  They  even  noted 
how  jealous  he  was  of  her  that  fall,  when  the  young  German 
prince  of  Mecklenburg- Schwerin  fell  in  love  with  her  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  show  it.  Josephine  herself  laughed  at  the 
young  man's  ardor,  but  Napoleon  looked  askance  and 
doubled  his  tenderness. 

The  winter  of  1807  and  1808  was  spent  in  Paris,  and 
the  shadow  was  not  large.   It  was  true  that  Mme.  Walewski 


was  now  in  the  city ;  but  if  Josephine  knew  anything  of  this 
liaison,  she  ignored  it  completely.  So  long  as  she  was  Em- 
press infidelities  had  little  effect  on  her.  Mme.  de  Remusat 
says  that  not  only  did  Josephine  shut  her  eyes  to  them,  but 
she  "  pushed  her  complacency  to  the  point  of  granting  par- 
ticular favors  to  some  of  his  mistresses/'  In  the  spring  and 
summer  her  hold  on  the  Emperor  seemed  to  herself  and  to 
those  about  her  to  have  been  strengthened  by  the  four  and 
a  half  months  which  the  two  spent  with  only  a  small  suite  at 
Bayonne,  where  the  Emperor's  presence  was  necessary  to 
direct  the  affairs  with  Spain.  Napoleon  had  preceded  the 
Empress,  who  waited  in  Bordeaux  for  news  of  Hortense.  to 
whom  a  third  son  was  born  on  April  20,  1808.  The  news 
brought  great  joy  to  Josephine,  and  no  doubt  had  some- 
thing to  do  wMth  her  happiness  in  the  next  few  months.  It 
provided  a  second  heir,  and  made  divorce  seem  less  impera- 

In  spite  of  the  sinister  events  of  the  sojourn  at  Bayonne — 
it  was  here  that  the  King  of  Spain,  Charles  IV.,  and  his  heir, 
Ferdinand,  abdicated  their  rights  and  that  Joseph  Bonaparte 
was  made  King  of  Spain — there  was  much  gaiety  around  Jo- 
sephine. There  were  dinners  and  fetes  and  drives,  and  the 
French  Empress  and  the  Sj)anish  Queen  Louise  seemed  to 
enjoy  each  other's  society  as  if  a  throne  were  not  changing 
hands  and  a  noble  house  falling,  because  of  the  disgraceful 
inaction  and  jealousy  of  one  ruler  and  the  cynical  ambition 
and  self-confidence  of  the  other. 

The  really  delightful  part  of  Josephine's  life  at  Bayonne 
was  the  informal  intimacy  which  she  and  Napoleon  enjoyed. 
Never  since  the  days  at  Malmaison  had  they  been  together 
so  long  and  so  freely.  They  made  the  most  of  their  liberty, 
even  romping  before  the  eyes  of  the  members  of  their  small 
suite  in  a  most  unroyal  way.  The  Castle  of  Marrac,  which 
they  occupied,  was  near  the  shore,  and  they  spent  much  time 


on  the  beach,  where  the  Emperor,  dragging  the  Empress  to 
the  water,  would  push  her  into  it  or  dash  sand  over  her, 
laughing  like  a  teasing  boy  as  he  did  so.  In  one  of  these 
romps  the  little,  low  silk  slippers  which  the  Empress  always 
wore  slipped  off,  and  Napoleon,  seizing  them,  threw  them 
into  the  surf,  making  Josephine  walk  back  to  her  carriage 
in  stocking  feet.  It  was  with  such  frolics  that  the  two  en- 
livened the  days  at  Marrac,  in  the  summer  of  1808.  Their 
journey  back  to  Paris  was  a  triumphal  procession,  wherein 
Josephine,  by  her  tact,  her  amiability,  her  unflagging  in- 
terest, won  everv  heart.  Never  had  she  seemed  more  ad- 
mirable  to  Napoleon  as  an  Empress,  never  more  charming 
as  a  woman. 

It  was  in  August,  1808,  that  Josephine  returned  to  Paris, 
after  four  and  a  half  months  with  her  husband.  A  few 
days  later,  he  left  her  for  Erfurth,  where  he  was  to  meet 
Alexander  of  Russia  and  the  German  sovereigns,  for  a  con- 
ference on  the  affairs  of  Europe.  At  a  gathering  of  the 
magnitude  and  splendor  of  this  at  Erfurth  it  would  have 
been  fitting  that  the  Empress  be  present,  but  Napoleon  did 
not  deem  it  wise  for  her  to  leave  France.  That  Napoleon 
meant  to  indicate  by  leaving  her  at  home  that  his  decision 
to  have  a  divorce  was  taken  and  that  this  was  the  beginning 
of  the  separation  is  not  clear,  though  it  is  certain  that  the 
subject  was  much  in  his  mind  at  Erfurth.  The  stability 
an  heir  would  give  to  his  throne  and  the  value  of  an  alliance 
with  one  of  the  old  houses  of  Europe,  now  became  clearer 
than  ever  to  him,  and  undoubtedly  Napoleon  came  back  to 
Josephine  with  the  idea  more  firmly  fixed  in  mind  than  be- 
fore. Those  who  saw  them  together  after  Erfurth  said  to 
themselves,  **  He  is  meditating  the  divorce  again."  Jo- 
sephine feared  it.  What  else  could  mean  his  short  brusque 
remarks,  his  evident  desire  to  escape  her  company,  his 
averted  eyes. 


Dread  the  future  as  she  might,  she  could  do  nothing.  To. 
question  Napoleon  was  to  irritate  him,  and  nothing,  she 
knew,  was  more  unwise.  To  show  a  sad  face,  to  weep,  was 
to  drive  him  from  her  presence,  for  he  detested  tears  with 
all  the  force  of  the  strong  reasoning  controlled  creature  who 
sees  nothing  but  a  meaningless  waste  of  strength  in  them. 
She  knew  too  well  the  empire  of  Xapoleon  over  all  those 
alx>ut  him  to  attempt  to  build  up  a  party  of  her  own  that  at 
the  issue  would  throw  its  influence  in  her  favor.  There 
was  but  one  thing  to  oppose  to  the  imperious  will  of  her 
husband — his  affecticm  for  her.  To  cherish  that,  doing 
nothing  of  which  he  could  complain,  nothing  which  would 
irritate  or  weary  him;  to  show  him  at  every  meeting  her 
amiability,  her  devoticm,  her  tact,  to  win  fn^m  him  the 
confession  that  no  woman  could  fill  more  gracefully  and 
successfully  than  she  was  doing  her  difficult  position, — this 
was  Josephine's  course,  and  the  one  which  she  followed 
ceaselessly  after  the  interview  in  1807.  Certainly  the  fear 
was  continuallv  in  her  heart  after  Erfurth,  but  to  him  she 
gave  no  sign.  She  was  gentle,  apparently  trusting ;  tactful, 
and  cautious — the  very  qualities  which  Napoleon  admired 
most  in  women  and  found  rarest.  Everv  dav  of  intercourse 
made  it  harder  for  him  to  come  to  a  resolution,  and  every 
day  increased  her  own  anxiety. 

It  was  only  ten  days  after  Erfurth  that  the  war  in  Spain 
compelled  Xapi^Ieon  to  leave  Paris.  Josephine  was  left 
alone.  There  was  little  in  the  letters  she  received  from 
Spain  to  disturb  her  peace  of  mind;  as  always,  they  gave 
her  details  of  the  Emperor's  health,  expressed  concern  for 
hers,  gave  brief  bits  of  news — optimistic  always;  rarely  a 
word  of  a  disaster  was  put  into  a  letter  to  Josephine — direc- 
tions about  fetes,  about  the  reception  of  i)ersons  to  be  sent  to 
her,  comments  and  inquiries  on  family  matters :  such  letters, 
in  short,  as  she  had  always  received.     Yet  there  was  an  un- 


easiness  in  Josephine's  mind  which  she  could  not  conquer; 
— it  was  fed  by  rumors  from  idle  and  more  or  less  malicious 
tongues  in  her  circle. 

It  was  not  only  the  uncertainty  of  her  own  fate  which 
distressed  her;  she  had  further  reason  for  grief  in  the  un- 
happiness  of  Hortense,  who  had  been  reconciled  with  her 
husband  for  a  time,  but  was  now  more  wTetched  than  ever, 
and  whose  frequent  letters  to  Josephine  must  have  cut  her 
to  the  heart  again  and  again.  Her  tenderness  and  her 
wisdom  in  her  councils  to  her  daughter  at  this  time,  indeed 
at  all  times,  are  admirable.  It  would  not  have  been  surpris- 
ing if  in  receiving  daily  the  complaints  of  Hortense,  at  a  mo- 
ment of  so  much  uneasiness  regarding  her  true  situation, 
she  had  resented  the  misery  of  her  daughter;  but  there  is 
never  a  shadow  of  irritation  in  her  letters. 

In  January,  Josephine  had  the  joy  of  seeing  Napoleon 
return.  For  the  two  months  and  a  half  he  was  in  Paris  she 
watched  him  closely,  but  to  no  purpose.  Indeed  public  af- 
fairs were  in  such  a  condition  that  the  Emperor  had  little  or 
no  time  to  give  her.  He  was  working  day  and  night  in  a 
frenzied  effort  to  clear  France  of  the  traitors  who,  within 
his  government,  indeed  within  his  own  family,  were  plot- 
ting his  overthrow,  and  to  put  an  army  in  order  for  the  war 
he  saw  Austria  and  her  allies  preparing  for  him.  There 
was  no  time  in  the  winter  of  1808  and  1809  for  the  con- 
sideration of  divorce  and  marriage,  and  if  a  decision  for  a 
divorce  had  been  taken  at  Erfurth,  the  realization  was  far 
enough  off.  To  all  outward  appearances,  Josephine  was 
safe.  She  was  gratified,  too,  when  the  day  of  the  Emperor's 
departure  came  in  April,  by  being  allowed  to  accompany 
him  as  far  as  Strasburg,  where  she  set  up  her  court  for  the 
next  few  months.  Here  were  soon  gathered  about  her  sev- 
eral of  the  family:  Hortense,  with  her  two  little  sons,  the 
Queen  of  Westphalia,  and  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Baden. 


Here  she  received  from  the  Emperor  himself  the  first  news 
of  the  succession  of  victories  with  which  the  campaign  of 
1809  opened.  First  it  was  Abensberg,  then  Eckmuhl,  then 
Ratisbonne,  that  he  recounted  to  her.  It  was  a  triumphal 
march,  as  always;  but  at  Ratisbonne  something  happened 
which  threw  Josephine  into  consternation.  Napoleon  was 
hit  by  a  ball.  The  news  came  to  the  Empress  indirectly, 
and  she  hurriedly  sent  a  courier  to  find  out  the  actual  con- 
dition of  the  wound.  **  The  ball  which  hit  me  did  not 
wound  me,"  he  replied,  *'  it  scarcely  grazed  Achilles*  heel. 
My  health  is  very  good.  It  is  wrong  for  you  to  worry. 
Everything  is  going  well.'' 

Four  days  later,  the  Empress  received  a  special  courier 
from  the  Emperor,  who  announced  to  her  the  surrender  of 
Vienna.  Josephine  was  very  hap])y.  It  argued  well  for  a 
speedy  end  to  the  campaign.  Iler  happiness  was  brief.  The 
defeat  at  Essling,  and  the  death  of  Marshall  Lannes,  filled 
her  with  foreboding.  She,  with  many  others  of  her  day, 
looked  on  the  career  of  the  Em])eror  with  superstitious  awe. 
It  was  luck — a  star.  The  charm  broken,  the  star  obscured, 
all  would  go.  It  is  doubtful  if  Josephine,  any  more  than 
hundreds  of  others  who  surrounded  the  Emperor,  ever 
realized  his  stupendous  genius  or  the  gigantic  efforts  the 
man  made  to  wrest  victories  from  fate.  It  was  the  common 
story  of  one  who  spends  himself  in  achievement,  and  in  the 
end  hears  himself  called  a  **  lucky  fellow  ".  After  the  de- 
feat  at  Essling,  Jose])hine  discerned  on  every  side  the  joy  of 
Napoleon's  enemies,  saw  the  alarm  of  his  friends,  heard  in 
her  own  heart  the  knell  of  fate.  To  complete  her  misery, 
she  feared  she  had  offended  the  Emperor.  Hortense,  who 
had  been  at  Strasburg  for  some  time,  was  ordered  by  her 
physician  to  go  to  Baden  for  the  waters.  It  was  the  Em- 
peror's order  that  no  one  of  the  royal  family  should  change 
quarters  without  his  consent.     Hortense  went  )to  Baden 


without  consulting  him,  taking  with  her  the  two  young 
princes.  The  Emperor  was  irritated.  "  My  daughter,"  he 
wrote  her  less  than  a  week  after  Essling,  *'  I  am  dissatisfied 
to  find  that  you  have  left  France  without  my  permission, 
and  above  all  that  you  have  taken  my  nephews  away.  Since 
you  are  at  Baden,  stay ;  but  within  an  hour  after  you  receive 
this  letter,  send  my  two  nephews  to  Strasburg  to  the  Em- 
press. They  must  never  leave  France.  It  is  the  first  time  I 
have  had  any  occasion  to  be  dissatisfied  with  you,  but  you 
should  never  make  any  arrangements  for  my  nephews  with- 
out my  consent.  You  must  feel  the  bad  effect  that  would 

This  letter  was  sent  to  Hortense  through  Josephine,  who 
opened  it,  thinking  to  have  news  herself  from  Napoleon, 
about  whom  she  was  greatly  concerned.  It  was  a  new 
cause  of  worry.  Would  he  not  blame  her  for  Hortense's  act? 
At  least  the  two  children  had  already  been  sent  back  to  her 
— that  was  one  reason  for  congratulation ;  but  she  hastened 
to  write  to  Hortense  urging  her  to  try  and  appease  the  Em- 
peror. Her  anxiety  became  so  great  that  her  health  began 
to  give  way,  and  she,  too,  had  to  leave  Strasburg,  in  June, 
for  treatment  at  Plombieres,  in  the  Vosges. 

Josephine  had  been  frequently  before  at  Plombieres,  but 
certainly  never  before  so  quietly  since  she  was  Empress. 
The  usual  suite  accompanied  her,  the  same  imposing  livery, 
the  same  magnificent  wardrobe,  but  no  reception,  no  balls, 
no  excursions  marked  her  sojourn.  She  lived  like  a  retired 
Empress  almost — scattering  charities  everywhere,  and 
amusing  herself  principally  with  her  little  grandsons,  upon 
whom  she  lavished  toys  of  every  description  in  the  profusion 
and  extravagance  with  which  she  had  always  heaped  jewels 
and  finery  upon  herself.  Daily  she  enjoyed  Louis  more. 
"  I  am  so  happy  to  have  your  son  here,"  she  wrote  Hortense. 
"  He  is  charming,  and  I  am  becoming  more  and  more  at- 

Eneraved  by  Audo 
do  Frantaii,  reiat   d'lialie,"  is  surrounded  by  an  elaborai 
emblems.     After  the  divorce.  Jotephini 
■nd  tbal  of   Marie   Louise   inserted. 


tached  to  him.      .      .      .      His  little  reasonings  amuse  me 

The  rapid  recovery  of  fortune  which  followed  the  reverse 
at  Essling  soon  reassured  Josephine.  She  saw  from  Na- 
poleon's letters  that,  however  his  critics  might  feel  that  his 
star  was  waning,  he  himself  had  not  lost  courage.  He 
scorned  their  exultation.  "  They  have  made  an  appoint- 
ment to  meet  at  my  tomb/'  he  said,  **  but  they'll  not  dare 
carry  it  out.*'  His  deeds  verified  his  words.  In  rapid  suc- 
cession, he  sent  Josephine  announcements  of  the  series  of 
victories  which  marked  the  latter  half  of  June,  1809,  and 
which  culminated  in  Wagram  on  July  6th.  A  week  later 
she  received  notice  of  the  suspension  of  hostilities. 

Once  more  the  Empress  breathed  freely;  Napoleon  was 
safe,  and  he  was  victorious.  Now  his  letters  were  longer, 
gayer,  tenderer  than  they  had  been  for  many  months.  He 
rejoiced  in  the  reports  she  sent  him  from  Plombieres  of  her 
gaining  strength.  **  I  am  glad  the  waters  are  doing  you  so 
much  good,"  he  wrote;  and  again,  "I  hear  that  you  are 
stout,  rosy,  and  looking  very  well."  He  made  no  objection 
to  the  plans  she  suggested  for  herself.  Stay  at  Plombieres 
if  she  wished,  why  not ;  and  when  she  is  ready  in  August, 
go  to  Paris.  If  her  letters  are  long  in  coming,  he  chides 
her.  "  I  have  received  no  letters  from  you  for  several  days. 
The  pleasures  at  Malmaison,  the  beautiful  hot-houses  and 
gardens,  make  you  forget  me.  That's  the  way  it  goes,  they 
say."  As  the  time  approached  for  his  return — the  negotia- 
tions at  Schonbrunn  which  followed  the  war  lasted  into 
October — he  began  to  show  something  like  eagerness 
Every  day  he  sent  a  brief  note  of  his  coming  return.  **  I'll 
let  you  know  twenty-four  hours  before  my  arrival."  "  I 
shall  make  a  fete  of  our  reunion.  I  am  waiting  for  the  mo- 
ment impatiently."  True,  there  was  nothing  of  the  lover  in 
these  daily  bulletins  (it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  when  we 


remember  that,  during  most  of  the  campaign  of  1809,  Mme. 
de  Walewski  was  living  in  a  palace  in  Vienna,  where  Napo- 
leon saw  her  constantly)  ;  but  there  was  confidence,  affec- 
tion, interest;  no  sign  at  all  of  an  approaching  separation; 
and  yet  Napoleon  undoubtedly  left  Schcinbrunn  in  October 
persuaded  that  the  divorce  was  a  necessity  and  resolved  to 
tell  Josephine  of  his  decision  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in  France. 



NESS napoleon's    VIEW    OF    A    DIVORCE THE    WAY    IN 


UNHAPPILY  for  the  Empress,  her  reunion  with  Na- 
poleon was  marred  by  a  delay  which  irritated  the 
Emperor  no  little.  Josephine  was  at  St.  Cloud 
when  she  received  a  note,  about  October  24th  or  25th,  from 
Napoleon,  saying  he  would  be  at  Fontainebleau  on  the  26th 
or  27th,  and  that  she  had  better  go  there  with  her  suite.  A 
later  courier  set  the  evening  of  the  27th  as  the  time  of  his 
arrival.  What  was  Josephine's  terror  on  having  a  mes- 
senger ride  rapidly  in  from  Fontainebleau  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  26th,  saying  the  Emperor  had  arrived  that  morning 
and  there  had  been  no  one  but  the  concierge  to  meet  him! 
It  could  not  be  denied  that  such  a  reception  was  a  poor  one 
for  a  conquering  Emperor  who  now  for  the  first  time  in 
six  months  set  foot  in  his  kingdom.  Josephine  feared,  with 
reason,  that  Napoleon  would  be  irritated,  and  now  of  all 
times  when  she  needed  so  much  to  please  him! 

Post  haste  she  drove  to  Fontainebleau.  The  Emperor 
did  not  come  to  meet  her,  and  she  was  forced  to  mount  to  his 
library,  where  his  scant  welcome  chilled  her  to  the  heart. 
He  meant  to  announce  the  divorce  then.  She  soon  found, 
however,  that  it  was  the  Emperor's  resentment  at  what  he 
considered  her  fault  in  failing  to  meet  him  that  caused  his 
coldness.  A  trembling  explanation,  a  few  tears,  and  he  was 
appeased,  and  they  passed  a  happy  evening. 



Napoleon  had  taken  quite  another  means,  and  a  most  dis- 
quieting one,  to  hint  to  Josephine  that  the  divorce  was  under 
consideration.  The  apartments  of  the  Emperor  and  Em- 
press at  Fontainebleau,  as  at  other  i)laces,  were  ccnmected 
by  a  private  staircase.  When  Josephine  looked  about  her 
suite,  which  had  been  newly  decorated,  she  discovered  that 
this  passage  had  been  sealed  up.  In  consternation,  she 
sought  a  friend  of  hers  in  Napoleon's  household,  and  asked 
why  this  had  been  done,  by  whose  orders.  She  could  get 
-no  satisfaction,  nothing  but  evasive  answers,  halting  ex- 
planations. Alarmed,  yet  fearing  to  approach  the  Emperor, 
she  showed  a  troubled  face  and  tear-stained  eves.  Now, 
nothing  ever  had  disturbed  Napoleon  more  than  to  see  Jo- 
sephine in  sorrow.  The  sight,  and  the  knowledge  of  the 
cause,  unnerved  him  now.  He  took  a  course  characteristic 
of  an  autocratic  man,  accustomed  to  implicit  obedience  from 
associates,  when  he  has  determined  to  force  some  one  he 
loves  to  do  a  distasteful  act ;  he  avoided  Josephine's  pres- 
ence, scarcely  ever  exchanged  a  word  with  her  that  the  eti- 
quette of  the  court  did  not  require,  rarely  met  her  gaze. 
The  Empress  felt  that  his  coldness  could  mean  but  one 
thing.  She  soon  began  to  hear  whispers  of  the  decision 
in  the  court,  for  the  Emperor  had  made  his  resolution 
known  to  several  persons,  and  the  necessary  preparations 
were  already  making.  Josephine  could  not  but  see,  at  the 
same  time,  that  her  enemies — the  Bonaparte  family  and  their 
allies — and  those  about  her  who  were  mere  time-servers  had 
changed  materially  in  their  attitude  toward  her.  There  was 
more  than  one  lord  or  lady  who  did  not  hesitate  to  neglect, 
even  slight,  the  Empress.  She  was  a  person  whom  it  was 
no  longer  necessary  to  cultivate ;  and,  besides,  might  not  the 
Emperor  take  it  as  a  compliment  to  his  judgment  to  see 
that  she  whom  he  was  to  discard  was  ignored  by  his  fol- 
lowers ? 


Josephine's  uncertainty  as  to  precisely  what  the  divorce 
meant  made  her  alarm  the  greater.  She  undoubtedly  saw 
in  it  at  this  time  nothing  but  a  disgrace  and  a  punishment. 
She  was  to  be  cast  out — her  honors  stripped  from  her,  her 
friends  driven  away,  her  luxury  at  an  end.  Not  only  must 
she  be  separated  from  the  Emperor,  whom  she  loved  and  to 
whose  happiness  and  success  she  believed  superstitiously 
that  she  was  necessarv;  but  no  doubt  she  would  be  driven 
from  France.  She  saw  herself  in  exile,  poor,  friendless, 
alone, — she  who  had  been  the  Empress  of  France,  the  consort 
of  Napoleon.  And  her  children :  her  downfall  meant  theirs. 
Hortense,  whose  happiness  had  been  wrecked  by  her  mar- 
riage, what  now  would  become  of  her  ?  And  Eugene,  whom 
the  Emperor  had  so  loved  and  trusted  and  honored,  what  of 

But  Josephine's  idea  of  the  divorce  as  a  disgrace  and 
punishment  was  not  Napoleon's.  That  he  had  never  ex- 
plained to  her  what  he  meant,  was  due  to  his  own  cowardice. 
In  1807,  he  had  succumbed  entirely,  when  the  subject  came 
up,  and  put  the  thought  aside.  Now  he  clung  to  his  de- 
cision, but  lacked  courage  to  break  it  to  her.  He  feigned 
irritation  and  coldness  to  hide  his  own  faint-heartedness. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Napoleon  regarded  the  divorce  as  a 
great  state  aflfair.  To  perpetuate  France's  i^eace.  stability, 
glory,  an  heir  was  necessary;  therefore  he  and  Josephine 
who  loved  each  other  parted.  They  suffered  that  France 
might  live.  The  divorce  then,  w^as  to  be  regarded  as  a  sac- 
rificial rite,  and  Josephine  was  to  be  placed  before  the  coun- 
try as  a  noble  victim  to  whom  the  greatest  honor  then  and 
ever  should  be  shown.  Such  was  Napoleon's  idea,  and 
quietly,  in  this  month  after  his  return  from  Schonbrunn,  he 
was  preparing  a  ceremony  which  would  put  the  affair  in  this 
light  to  the  country.  It  was  for  this  reason  he  summoned 
all  the  members  of  the  Bonaparte  and  Beauharnais  families 


from  far  and  near ;  that  he  gathered  in  France  all  that  was 
great  in  the  Empire  and  among  his  allies;  that  he  made 
Fontainebleau  a  veritable  court  of  kings.  To  poor  Josephine 
all  of  this  looked  like  a  cruel  device  to  parade  her  grief  and 

About  the  middle  of  November,  the  court  came  to  Paris ; 
but  still  the  Emperor  delayed,  he  could  not  say  the  word. 
The  constraint  between  the  two  became  constantly  greater; 
the  suflfering  of  both,  it  was  evident  to  all  their  intimate 
friends,  was  increasing.  At  last,  on  November  30th,  after 
a  silent  and  wretched  dinner,  Napoleon  led  Josephine  into 
a  salon,  dismissed  their  followers,  and  told  her  of  his  de- 
cision. Josephine  grasping  nothing  in  his  broken  words 
but  that  they  were  to  be  separated,  burst  into  tears,  and  fell 
upon  a  couch,  where  she  lay  sobbing  aloud.  She  was  carried 
to  her  apartment,  where  her  attendants  vainly  sought  to 
check  her  wild  grief.  Nor  was  her  calm  restored  until  late 
in  the  evening,  when  Hortense  came  to  her  with  an  explana- 
tion of  the  situation,  which  seems  to  have  been  entirelv  new 
to  her  mind.  The  Emperor,  overwhelmed  by  Josephine's 
outburst,  had  strengthened  his  own  mind  by  summoning 
immediately  to  his  side  certain  advisors  who  favored  the 
divorce.  After  talking  with  them,  he  had  sent  for  Hor- 
tense, and  begun  rather  brutally  by  telling  her  that  tears 
would  do  no  good,  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
divorce  was  necessary  to  the  safety  of  the  Empire,  and  that 
she  and  her  mother  must  accept  it  as  inevitable.  Hortense 
replied  with  dignity  that  the  Empress,  whatever  her  grief, 
would  obey  his  will,  and  that  she  and  Eugene  would  follow 
her  into  exile;  that  none  of  them  would  complain  at  their 
disgrace,  that  all  would  remember  his  past  kindness.  This 
seems  to  have  been  Napoleon's  first  glimmer  of  the  idea  of 
the  divorce  which  the  Beauharnais  entertained.  He  began  to 
weep.     "  What !  "  he  cried,  "  do  you  and  Eugene  mean  to 


desert  me?  You  must  not  do  it,  you  must  stay  with  me. 
Your  position,  the  future  of  your  children,  require  it.  How- 
ever cruel  the  divorce  for  both  your  mother  and  me,  it  must 
be  consummated  with  the  dignity  which  the  circumstances 
require."  Everything  which  could  be  done  to  soften  the 
situation  for  Josephine  should  be  done,  he  said.  She  should 
remain  the  first  in  rank  after  the  Empress  on  the  throne. 
She  should  receive  the  honors  due  her  sacrifice;  she  should 
remain  in  France.  Her  income  should  be  fit  for  her  rank, 
she  should  be  given  palaces,  a  retinue — all  that  a  grateful 
France  could  do,  in  short,  should  be  done.  As  for  Hor- 
tense  and  Eugene,  he  looked  upon  them  as  his  children,  and 
should  do  for  them  as  he  would  for  his  own. 

This  new  idea  of  her  fate  had  great  effect  on  Josephine; 
and  when  her  friends  came  to  her  to  console  her,  weep  as 
she  might,  she  defended  Napoleon,  and  presented  the  di- 
vorce as  a  sacrifice  which  they  were  together  making  for 
France.  **  The  Emperor  is  as  nearly  heart-broken  as  I  am," 
she  sobbed.  "  It  cannot  be  helped.  There  must  be  an  heir 
to  consolidate  the  Empire/* 

Now  that  Josephine  knew  his  decision.  Napoleon's  re- 
serve  and  coldness  passed.  He  gave  her  every  attention, 
tried  to  anticipate  every  wish,  enveloped  her  in  tenderness. 
This  change  of  demeanor  surprised  and  confused  the  court, 
where  as  yet  the  divorce  was  a  matter  of  conjecture  to  all 
save  Napoleon's  confidential  advisors.  Had  he  changed  his 
mind?  As  they  saw  the  Empress  smilingly  going  through 
the  great  fetes,  they  began  to  say  that  after  all  he  had  not 
had  the  courage  to  make  the  separation.  Napoleon's 
kindly  attitude  seems  to  have  given  Josephine  a  hope  that 
he  had  changed  his  mind.  But  a  week  after  her  interview 
with  him,  Eugene  arrived  in  Paris,  and  she  knew  soon  that 
divorce  was  inevitable  and  that  the  first  steps  were  already 
taken  to  consummate  it.    Another  distressing  interview  be- 


tween  herself  and  the  Emperor  followed,  at  which  Eugene 
was  present,  and  here  again  Napoleon  promised  her  his  care, 
his  affection,  a  continued  interest  in  her  children.  When 
she  left  this  interview,  she  knew  that  in  a  few  days  more  the 
court,  Paris,  France,  would  know  of  her  fate.  Overwhelmed 
as  she  was,  weak  with  constant  weeping  in  private,  a  prey 
to  a  hundred  unreasonable  fears  as  to  her  future,  Josephine 
nevertheless  went  through  her  duties  in  these  last  days  with 
a  brave  face  and  a  sweet  smile.  Never  did  she  win  more 
favor  from  the  better  part  of  the  court;  never  did  she  de- 
serve it  more  than  for  her  courage  at  this  moment. 

December  15th  was  set  for  the  first  act  in  the  official  part 
of  the  drama.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Josephine 
went  to  the  salon  of  the  Emperor,  accompanied  by  Eugene 
and  Hortense.  Here  she  found  assembled  all  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Bonaparte  family,  who  were  in  Paris,  Napoleon, 
King  Louis,  King  Jerome,  King  Murat  and  the  Queens  of 
Spain,  Naples,  and  Westphalia,  together  with  the  French 
Arch-Chancellor  and  the  Minister  of  State.  The  ceremony 
was  opened  at  once  by  Napoleon.  If  any  of  the  Bonapartes 
hoped  to  see  Josephine  humiliated  at  last,  they  must  have 
been  grievously  disappointed.  Every  word  of  the  Em- 
peror was  intended  to  place  her  in  the  eyes  of  France  as  its 
chief  benefactor  and  friend — the  woman  who  sacrificed 
herself  for  the  country's  good.  Napoleon's  remarks  to  the 
little  company  show  exactly  the  interpretation  he  wished 
placed  on  the  act,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  he 
was  not  sincere  in  what  he  said  at  this  time.  In  a  voice 
broken  by  agitation,  he  announced  that  he  and  the  Empress 
had  resolved  to  have  their  marriage  annulled.  Addressing 
the  Arch-Chancellor,  he  said : 

"I  sent  you  a  sealed  letter  dated  to-day,  directing  you  to 
come  to  my  study,  in  order  to  make  known  to  you  the  reso- 
lution that  the  Empress,  my  most  dear  wife,  and  I  have 


taken.  I  am  glad  that  the  kings,  queens,  and  princes,  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  my  brothers-in-law  and  sisters-in-law, 
my  step-daughter  and  my  step-son,  my  son  by  adoption,  as 
well  as  my  mother,  are  present  at  the  interview.  My  pol- 
itics, the  interest  and  need  of  my  i)eople,  whicli  have  always 
guided  my  actions,  make  it  necessary  that  I  should  leave 
children  behind  me,  heirs  of  m.y  love  for  this  people  and  of 
this  throne  where  providence  has  placed  me.  How^ever,  I 
have  abandoned  all  hope  now  for  several  years  of  having 
children  by  my  beloved  wife,  the  Empress  Josephine.  It 
is  this  which  has  led  me  to  sacrifice  the  sweetest  affections 
of  my  heart  and  to  listen  only  to  the  idea  of  the  good  of  the 
State,  and  consequently  to  dissolve  our  marriage.  Arrived 
at  the  age  of  forty  years,  I  dare  hope  that  I  shall  live  long 
enough  to  rear,  according  to  my  own  ideas,  the  children 
that  it  shall  please  Providence  to  give  me.  God  knows  how 
much  this  resolution  has  cost  me;  but  there  is  no  sacrifice 
that  is  beyond  my  courage  when  I  am  convinced  that  it  will 
be  useful  to  France.  I  must  add,  that  far  from  ever  having 
had  any  reason  to  complain  of  my  wife,  I  can  only  praise 
her  love  and  tenderness.  For  fifteen  years  she  has  been  the 
ornament  of  mv  life.  The  recollection  will  alwavs  remain 
engraved  on  my  heart;  she  has  been  crowned  by  my  hand, 
and  I  mean  that  she  shall  preserve  the  rank  and  title  of 
Empress,  and  I  hope  that  above  all  she  will  never  doubt  my 
feelings  toward  her  and  that  she  w^ill  always  consider  me  her 
best  and  truest  friend." 

When  the  Emperor  ceased  to  speak,  Josephine  attempted 
to  read  the  little  address  which  had  been  prepared  for  her, 
but  her  voice  failed  her,  and  she  passed  her  paper  to  one  of 
the  party: — 

"  With  the  permission  of  my  august  and  dear  husband," 
so  her  speech  read,  "  I  declare  that  having  given  up  all  hope 
of  bearing  the  children  which  would  satisfy  the  political 


needs  and  the  welfare  of  France,  I  am  glad  to  give  to  him 
the  greatest  proof  of  attachment  and  devotion  which  has 
ever  been  given  in  this  world.  All  that  I  have  I  hold  be- 
cause of  his  goodness ;  it  was  his  hand  which  crowned  me, 
and  from  my  throne  I  have  received  only  affection  and  love 
from  the  French  people.  I  believe  I  am  showing  my  grati- 
tude for  these  benefits  by  consenting  to  the  dissolution  of  a 
marriage  which  henceforth  is  an  obstacle  to  the  welfare  of 
France,  which  deprives  her  of  the  happiness  of  being  one 
day  governed  by  the  descendants  so  evidently  raised  up  by 
Providence  to  wipe  out  the  evils  of  a  terrible  revolution  and 
reestablish  the  altar,  throne,  and  social  order ;  but  the  disso- 
lution of  my  marriage  can  never  change  the  feelings  of  my 
heart.  In  me  the  Emperor  will  always  have  his  best  friend. 
I  know  how  much  this  act,  demanded  by  politics  and  by  high 
interests,  has  wounded  his  heart,  but  we  both  glory  in  the 
sacrifice  that  we  make  for  the  good  of  the  country." 

The  day  following  this  scene,  the  necessary  formalities 
were  gone  through  in  the  Senate.  Eugene,  then  Viceroy  of 
Italy,  took  the  oath  of  Senator  that  day,  and  later  spoke  on 
the  divorce.  The  interpretation  he  gave  of  the  separation 
was  that  which  Napoleon  had  devised.  "  You  have  just 
listened  to  the  reading  of  the  project  which  the  Senate  sub- 
mits to  you  for  deliberation,''  Eugene  said.  "  Under  the 
circumstances,  I  think  that  it  is  my  duty  to  express  to  you 
the  feelings  of  my  family.  My  mother,  my  sister,  and 
myself  owe  everything  to  the  Emperor;  he  has  been  a  veri- 
table father  to  us;  he  will  find  in  us  at  all  times  devoted 
children  and  submissive  subjects.  It  is  essential  to  the  hap- 
piness of  France  that  the  founder  of  this  fourth  dynasty 
should  be  surrounded  by  direct  descendants  who  will  be  a 
guarantee  to  everybody,  a  safeguard  of  the  people,  of  the 
country.  When  my  mother  was  crowned  before  the  whole 
nation  by  the  hands  of  her  august  husband,  she  contracted 


the  obligation  to  sacrifice  all  her  affections  to  the  good  of 
France;  she  has  fulfilled  her  duty  with  courage,  nobility, 
and  dignity ;  her  heart  has  often  been  wrung  by  the  painful 
struggles  of  a  man  accustomed  to  conquer  fortune  and  to 
march  forward  always  with  a  firm  step  toward  the  accom- 
plishment of  great  designs.  The  tears  that  this  resolution 
has  cost  the  Emperor  are  sufficient  to  glorify  my  mother. 
In  her  new  situation  she  will  not  be  a  stranger  to  the  new 
prosperity  that  we  expect,  and  it  will  be  with  a  satisfaction 
mingled  with  pride  that  she  will  look  upon  the  happiness 
that  her  sacrifices  have  brought  to  the  country  and  to  the 

The  articles  annulling  the  marriage  and  fixing  Josephine's 
future  state  were  passed  at  the  same  session.    They  read : — 

Article  /.  The  marriage  contracted  between  the  Emperor 
Napoleon  and  the  Empress  Josephine  is  hereby  dissolved. 

Article  II.  The  Empress  Josephine  will  preserve  the  title 
and  the  rank  of  a  crowned  Empress. 

Article  III,  Her  annual  income  is  fixed  at  two  million 
francs  [$400,000],  to  be  paid  from  the  treasury  of  the 

Article  IV.  All  the  obligations  taken  by  the  Emperor  for 
the  Empress  Josephine  out  of  the  public  treasury  are  ob- 
ligatory upon  his  successors. 

Article  V.  The  present  senatus-consulte  shall  be  sent  by 
a  messenger  to  Her  Majesty,  the  Empress  Queen. 

That  afternoon  Napoleon,  after  a  heart-breaking  scene 
with  Josephine,  left  the  Tuileries  for  the  Trianon.  A  few 
hours  later  Josephine,  exhausted  by  weeping,  entered  her 
carriage,  and  in  a  heavy  storm  was  driven  to  Malmaison. 




ALTHOUGH  divorced,  Josephine  was  still  Empress  of 
the  French  People,  and  her  income  and  her  posi- 
tion were  in  keeping  with  her  title.  By  the  decree 
of  the  Senate,  her  income  was  fixed  at  2,000,000  francs 
($400,000),  but  the  Emperor  found  means  of  increasing 
this,  by  making  her  many  splendid  presents,  and  by  order- 
ing that  any  unusual  outlay,  such  as  that  for  repairs  at  Mal- 
maison,  be  paid  from  the  civil  list.  She  was  to  have  three 
separate  homes:  Malmaison,  always  her  favorite  resi- 
dence, upon  the  chateau  and  grounds  of  which  she  had  for 
years  lavished  money,  and  in  which  she  had  carried  out 
every  fantasy  of  building,  decoration  and  gardening,  that  en- 
tered her  head;  the  Elysee  Palace  in  Paris,  at  present  the 
residence  of  the  presidents  of  the  French  Republic;  and 
Navarre,  a  chateau  near  Evreux. 

Not  only  did  Josephine  receive  money  and  property ;  Na- 
poleon took  care  that  her  suite  was  in  keeping  with  her  rank. 
It  was  as  large,  indeed,  as  that  of  many  of  the  reigning 
sovereigns  of  Europe,  and  included  some  of  the  cleverest 
and  wittiest  men  and  women  of  France.  To  the  Emperor's 
honor,  the  persons  chosen  were  all  of  them  in  sympathy  with 
the  Empress  and  loved  by  her.  More  than  one  of  those 
in  Josephine's  household,  indeed,  would  have  been  welcomed 
in  the  suite  of  Marie  Louise;  but  being  oflfered  their  choice, 



remained  with  Josephine.  Mme.  de  Remusat  was  a  notable 
example.  She  stayed  with  Jc^sephine  solely  l^ecause  of  her 
affection  and  sense  of  loyalty  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
her  husband  was  the  First  Chamberlain  of  Napoleon. 

If  Josephine  had  any  idea  that  her  divorce  was  going 
to  separate  her  from  Paris  and  the  society  of  her  friends, 
she  immediately  found  out  her  mistake.  The  day  after  her 
arrival  at  Malmaison,  in  spite  of  a  heavy  shower,  the  road 
from  Paris  was  one  long  line  of  carriages  of  persons  hasten- 
ing to  the  chateau  to  pay  her  their  respects.  Those  persons 
who  did  stay  away  because  uncertain  whether  the  Em- 
peror was  sincere  in  his  declaration  that  Josephine  was  to 
keep  her  rank  as  Empress  had  to  submit  to  severe  reproofs. 
"  Have  you  been  to  see  the  Empress  Josephine?  "  he  began 
to  ask,  after  a  day  or  two,  and  if  the  courtier  said  no,  the 
Emperor  frowned  and  said.  **  You  must  go,  sir!"  And 
as  a  result  everybody  did  go,  and  continued  to  go.  Indeed, 
later  in  the  winter,  when  Josephine  came  to  the  Elysee  for 
a  short  time,  her  house  was  a  veritable  court. 

But  Josephine  had  received  a  blow  which  wealth,  rank, 
and  friends  could  not  cure.  The  man  w^ho  once  had  wearied 
her  by  his  passion  and  who  had  had  to  beg  and  threaten  to 
persuade  her  to  pass  a  week  with  him  in  Italy,  had  in  turn 
become  the  object  of  as  passionate  affection  as  she  was 
capable  of  feeling.  She  had  for  years  now  regarded  his 
slightest  wish.  In  devoting  herself  to  Napoleon  in  order  to 
save  her  position  she  had  learned  to  love  him.  Her  pain 
now  was  the  greater  because  she  could  not  believe  that 
Napoleon  meant  it  when  he  said  that  he  still  should  love  and 
protect  her  and  that  he  should  honor  her  for  her  sacrifice 
as  never  before.  She  seemed  to  feel  that,  after  she  had  said 
good-by  to  him  at  the  Tuileries,  she  would  never  see  him 
again.  She  gave  way  utterly  to  her  grief,  weeping  night 
and  day.     Napoleon  kept  his  word,  however.     Two  days 


after  her  arrival  at  Malmaison  he  came  to  see  her  and  fre- 
quently in  the  days  that  followed,  up  to  the  time  of  his  mar- 
riage with  Marie  Louise,  at  the  end  of  March,  he  made  her 
little  visits.  They  were  always  formal,  in  the  presence  of 
attendants,  but  they  did  much  to  persuade  the  Empress  that 
Napoleon  intended  to  keep  his  promises  to  her.  After  every 
visit  however,  cam^  paroxysms  of  weeping.  Napoleon 
kept  himself  informed  of  Josephine's  state,  and  wrote  her 
frequent  notes,  chiding  her  for  this  weakness,  assuring  her 
of  his  love,  and  begging  her  to  have  courage. 

**  I  found  you  weaker  than  you  should  have  been,"  he 
wrote  one  day.  **  You  have  shown  some  courage;  you  must 
find  a  way  of  keeping  it  up.  You  must  not  give  up  to  melan- 
choly, you  must  try  to  be  contented,  and  above  all,  take  care 
of  your  health,  which  is  so  precious  to  me.  If  you  love  me, 
you  ought  to  try  to  be  strong  and  happy.  You  must  not 
doubt  my  constant  and  tender  friendship.  You  misunder- 
stand entirely  my  feelings  if  you  suppose  that  I  can  be  happy 
when  you  are  not  happy,  and  above  all,  when  you  are  not 

"  Savary  told  me  that  you  were  weeping  yesterday,"  he 
wrote  another  day.  "  I  hope  that  you  have  been  able  to 
go  out  to-day.  I  am  sending  you  the  results  of  my  hunt 
yesterday.  I  will  come  to  see  you  just  as  soon  as  you  will 
promise  me  that  you  have  regained  your  self-control  and 
that  your  courage  has  the  upper  hand.  Good-by,  dear;  I 
am  sad  to-day,  too,  for  I  have  need  of  knowing  that  you 
are  satisfied  and  courageous." 

After  returning  to  the  Tuileries,  he  wrote  her: — **  Eu- 
gene told  me  that  you  were  sad  yesterday.  That  is  not 
well,  dear;  it  is  contrary  to  what  you  promised  me.  It  has 
been  a  sorrow  to  me  to  see  the  Tuileries  again;  the  great 
palace  seems  empty,  and  I  am  lost  here." 

The  visits,  the  gifts,  the  letters  of  the  Emperor  really 


made  the  Empress  worse  rather  than  better;  and  finally 
Mme.  de  Remusat  took  the  matter  in  hand. 

**  The  Empress  passed  a  most  unhappy  morning,"  she 
wrote  to  her  husband ;  "  she  received  a  few  visits  which  only 
increased  her  grief,  and  then  every  time  anything  comes 
from  the  Emperor  she  goes  off  into  a  terrible  paroxysm. 
Some  way  must  be  found  to  persuade  the  Emperor  to  mod- 
erate his  expressions  of  regret  and  affection,  for  whenever 
he  gives  a  sign  of  his  own  sadness  she  falls  into  despair,  and 
really  her  head  seems  turned.  I  take  care  of  her  as  well 
as  I  can,  but  she  causes  me  the  greatest  sorrow.  She  is 
sweet,  suffering,  affectionate;  in  fact,  ever)rthing  that  is 
calculated  to  tear  one's  heart.  In  showing  his  affection, 
the  Emperor  only  makes  her  worse.  However  she  suffers, 
there  is  never  a  complaint  escapes  her;  she  is  really  as 
gentle  as  an  angel.  .  .  .  Try,  if  you  can,  to  have  the 
Emperor  write  to  her  S(^  as  to  encourage  her,  and  let  him 
never  send  anything  in  the  evening,  because  that  gives  her 
a  terrible  night.  She  cannot  endure  his  expressions  of  re- 
gret. Doubtless,  she  could  endure  coldness  still  less,  but 
there  must  be  a  medium  way.  She  was  in  such  a  state 
yesterday  after  the  last  letter  of  the  Emperor  that  I  was  on 
the  point  of  writing  him  myself  at  the  Trianon." 

As  time  went  on  and  Josephine  found  that  she  really  had 
no  reason  to  suspect  the  Emperor  of  withdrawing  the  friend- 
ship he  had  promised,  she  began  to  imagine  that  he  meant 
to  keep  her  always  at  Malmaison,  never  to  allow  her  to  go 
again  to  Paris.  This  alarm  probably  was  due  to  gossip 
that  reached  her.  She  no  doubt  would  have  preferred  re- 
maining at  Malmaison  if  this  fear  had  not  arisen.  She  was 
so  overcome  by  suspicion  that  she  tested  his  sincerity  by  ask- 
ing permission  to  go  to  Paris.  She  did  this  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  talk  of  the  forthcoming  marriage — not  yet 
settled,  but  in  full  negotiation — was  in  everybody's  mouth. 


The  Emperor's  reply  to  her  request  was  kind.  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  know  that  you  are  at  the  Elysee,  and  happy  to  see 
Tou  oftener,  for  you  know  how  much  I  love  you.*'  In  the 
course  of  this  correspondence  about  her  coming  he  could 
not  help  scolding  her  a  little,  however.  **  I  have  just  tcAd 
Eugene  that  you  would  rather  listen  to  the  gossip  of  the 
town  than  to  what  I  tell  you." 

And  yet,  even  in  this  period  of  distress,  Josephine  was 
not  idle;  nor  was  she  so  selfish  in  her  grief  that  she  forgot 
her  friends.  Napoleon's  letters  to  her  record  more  than  one 
promise  of  a  favor  she  had  asked  for  somebody.  She  even 
interested  herself  actively  in  securing  a  princess  for  the  Em- 
peror. Summoning  the  Countess  de  Mettemich  of  Austria, 
just  arrived  in  Paris,  she  told  her  frankly  that  she  should 
consider  the  sacrifice  she  had  made  a  pure  waste  if  the  Em- 
peror did  not  marry  the  Archduchess  of  Atistria.  At  that 
time  Napoleon  had  not  decided  on  his  future  Empress ;  but 
the  negotiations  thus  opened  by  Josephine  enabled  Metter- 
nich  to  prepare  the  way  in  Austria  so  that,  when  the  time 
came,  there  were  none  of  the  delays  which  had  irritated  Na- 
poleon in  applying  for  the  hand  of  the  Russian  princess  as 
he  did  first.  The  negotiations  for  the  hand  of  Marie  Louise 
terminated  favorably,  and  the  wedding  was  set  for  March. 

As  the  day  drew  near,  a  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  Jo- 
sephine remaining  at  Malmaison  during  the  ceremonies, 
grew  on  Napoleon,  and  he  asked  her  to  spend  the  month  of 
April  at  Navarre.  She  arrived  there  the  very  day  that  Marie 
Louise  entered  Paris.  Navarre  was  not  an  attractive  place 
to  take  possession  of  with  a  large  household  like  Josephine's 
at  that  season  of  the  year,  and  the  company,  used  to  the 
luxury  of  Malmaison,  found  themselves  obliged  to  camp 
out  in  great  discomfort  in  an  old,  damp,  half-furnished 
chateau,  where  neither  doors  nor  windows  would  shut  se- 
curely and  where  every  chimney  smoked.     Repairs  were 


quickly  made,  however,  and  furniture  in  quantities  was  sent 
from  Paris.  In  the  interval,  the  whole  suite  seems  to  have 
endured  the  experience  good-naturedly,  and  Josephine  made 
a  really  brave  effort  to  adapt  herself  to  her  new  situation 
and  to  forget  her  grief.  She  set  herself  to  finding  out  the 
resources  of  her  new  estate,  driving  daily  through  the  parks ; 
she  superintended  the  gardens,  planned  repairs  and  im- 
provements in  the  chateau,  looked  up  the  poor  and  sick,  in- 
vited in  the  people  of  Evreux  whom  she  wanted  to  know, 
and  every  night  played  her  favorite  game  of  tric-trac  with 
the  bishop  of  the  diocese.  It  was  a  good  beginning  for  a 
useful  and  eventually  a  happy  life  for  her,  and  all  would 
have  gone  very  well  if  she  could  have  dismissed  the  idea  that 
after  all  Napoleon  did  not  mean  to  keep  his  promises  to  her 
— that  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  he  would  lose  his 
interest,  withdraw  his  support,  drive  her  from  France. 

Two  weeks  passed  after  the  marriage,  and  no  word  came 
to  her  from  the  Emperor.  In  the  meantime,  she  was  receiv- 
ing letters  from  Eugene  and  Hortense,  who  were  required  to 
be  present  at  the  ceremonies,  and  every  member  of  her  suite 
had  daily  bulletins  of  the  gaieties  at  the  capital  and  of  its 
gossip.  Hints  reached  her  that  it  was  probable  the  Em- 
peror would  not  consider  it  proper  for  her  to  return  soon  to 
Malmaison,  if  he  did  at  all.  Her  worry  became  a  veritable 
panic,  and  before  she  had  been  three  weeks  at  Navarre, 
she  asked  permission  to  return  to  Malmaison.  It  was 
granted  at  once;  there^ipon  she  sent  the  Emperor  a  stilted 
letter  of  thanks.  Her  letter  and  the  reply  it  brought  from 
the  Emperor  are  excellent  examples  of  the  masculine  and 
feminine  ways  of  looking  at  the  same  situation.  Josephine's 
letter  read : — 

Sire: — I  have  just  received  from  my  son  the  assurance  that  your 
Majesty  consents  to  my  return  to  Malmaison  and  that  you  have  been 
good  enough  to  advance  to  me  the  money  that  I  have  asked  to  make 


the  Chateau  of  Navarre  habitable.  This  double  favor,  Sire,  dissipates 
largely  the  unrest  and  even  the  fears  that  the  long  silence  of  your 
Majesty  had  awakened.  I  was  afraid  of  being  entirely  banished  from 
your  mind;  I  see  that  I  have  not  been.  I  am  less  unhappy  to-day  in 
consequence;  I  am  even  as  happy  as  it  will  ever  be  possible  for  me 
to  be. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  I  shall  go  to  Malmaison  since  your  Majesty 
sees  no  objection  to  it.  but  I  should  say  to  you,  Sire,  that  I  should  not 
so  soon  take  advantage  of  the  liberty  which  your  Majesty  has  given 
me  if  the  house  at  Navarre  did  not  need  so  many  repairs,  both  on  ac- 
count of  my  health  and  that  of  my  suite.  My  plan  is  to  stay  at  Mal- 
maison a  very  short  time.  I  shall  soon  go  to  the  Springs.  But  while 
I  am  at  Malmaison  your  Majesty  may  be  sure  I  shall  live  as  if  I  were 
a  thousand  leagues  from  Paris.  I  have  made  a  great  sacrifice.  Sire  and 
each  day  I  feel  it  more.  However,  this  sacrifice  shall  be  complete; 
your  Majesty  shall  not  be  disturbed  in  your  happiness  by  any  expression 
of  regrets  on  my  part.  I  shall  pray  ceaselessly  for  your  Majesty's 
happiness,  but  your  Majesty  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  always  respect 
his  new  situation ;  I  shall  respect  it  in  silence,  having  confidence  in  the 
feeling  that  he  once  had  for  me.  I  shall  not  try  to  awaken  any  new  proof 
of  it;  I  shall  trust  in  your  justice  and  in  your  heart.  I  ask  but  one 
favor;  it  is  that  your  Majesty  shall  deign  to  give  me  now  and  then 
some  proof  that  I  have  a  small  place  in  your  thoughts  and  a  large  place 
in  your  esteem  and  your  friendship.  This  will  soften  my  grief  without, 
it  seems  to  me,  compromising  that  which  is  much  more  important  than 

all  to  me,  the  happiness  of  your  Majesty. 


Napoleon  replied: — 

My  Dear: — I  received  your  letter  of  the  19th  of  April    The  style  is 

very  bad.     I  am  always  the  same;  men  like  me  never  change.     I  do  not 

know  what  Eugene  could  have  said  to  you.    I  did  not  write  you  because 

you  had  not  written  me;  my  only  desire  is  to  be  agreeable  to  you.     I 

am  glad  that  you  are  going  to  Malmaison  and  that  you  are  contented. 

I  shall  go  there  to  find  out  how  you  are  and  to  give  you  news  of  myself. 

Now  compare  this  letter  with  yours,  and  after  that  I  will  let  you  judge 

which  is  the  more  friendly,  yours  or  mine.     Good-bye,  my  dear.     Take 

care  of  yourself,  and  be  just  to  yourself  and  to  me. 


Having  permission  to  return  to  Malmaison,  Josephine 
was  satisfied  to  remain  at  Navarre.  In  fact,  she  was  be- 
ginning to  enjoy  the  place  and  particularly  the  plans  for  its 


improvements.  It  was  not  until  May  that  she  returned  to 
Malmaison,  where  she  remained  a  month.  Later  she  spent 
three  months  at  Aix-En-Savoy  and  tlien  made  a  trip  in 

On  the  whole,  the  summer  and  fall  of  1810  were  not  un- 
pleasant. She  had  dismissed,  for  the  time,  her  doubt  of  the 
Emperor,  and  suffered  only  from  the  separation  from  him. 
That  sepai'ation  Napoleon  did  as  much  as  the  situation  al- 
lowed to  soften.  In  May,  after  her  return  to  Malmaison,  he 
went  to  see  her,  and  the  visit  seems  to  have  been  as  free 
from  restraint  and  grief  as  could  be  expected.  Josephine 
was  greatly  pleased  by  the  Emperor's  attention.  **  Yester- 
day was  a  day  of  joy  for  me/'  she  wrote  to  Hortense. 
**The  Emperor  came  to  see  me.  His  presence  made  me  happy, 
though  it  awakened  my  sorrow\  As  long  as  he  stayed  with 
me  I  had  the  courage  to  keep  back  my  tears,  but  when  he 
was  gone,  I  was  nc^t  able  to  restrain  them,  and  I  found 
myself  very  wretched.  He  was  as  good  as  ever  to  me,  and 
I  hope  he  read  in  my  heart  all  the  devotion  and  tenderness 
I  feel  for  him.'' 

Not  only  did  Napoleon  go  to  visit  her,  he  conceived  a  no- 
tion incomprehensible  to  a  feminine  mind  of  some  day  taking 
Marie  Louise,  and  broached  the  subject  one  day  as  the  two 
were  driving  near  Malmaison  in  Josephine's  absence,  by 
asking  the  Empress  if  she  would  not  like  to  go  over  the 
chateau.  Marie  Louise  immediately  began  to  cry,  and  Na- 
poleon, overwhelmed  by  what  he  had  done,  though  probably 
not  understanding  at  all,  never  ventured  to  go  further.  He 
probably  saw  no  reason  why  the  two  women  could  not  in 
private  be  friends. 

Everywhere  that  Josephine  went  in  these  first  journeys 
after  her  divorce  she  was  received  with  such  expressions  of 
devotion  and  interest  that  she  must  have  been  convinced 
that  the  people  had  adopted  the  Emperor's  view  of  the  di- 


vorce  and  looked  upon  her  as  one  who  had  sacrificed  herself 
for  the  country.  Curiously  enough,  they  brought  petitions 
to  her  praying  her  to  remit  them  to  the  Emperor ;  her  influ- 
ence over  him  and  her  relation  to  him  were  thus  publicly 
acknowledged.  In  all  the  interviews  Josephine  gave  to  per- 
sons who  sought  her  as  she  traveled  she  was  exceedingly 
discreet;  especially  admirable  was  the  way  in  which  she 
talked  of  the  Emperor.  It  was  as  of  a  brother  whom  she 
loved  dearly  and  whose  interests  she  had  deeply  at  heart. 
Although,  as  a  rule,  she  received  cordially  all  who  sought 
her,  she  did  refuse,  if  she  believed  the  person  hostile  to  Napo- 
leon. In  September,  while  Josephine  was  in  Switzerland, 
Mme.  de  Stael,  then  in  exile,  tried  to  secure  an  interview. 
Josephine  declined.  *'  I  know  her  too  well,"  she  said,  "  to 
wish  an  interview.  In  the  first  book  she- published,  she 
would  report  our  conversation,  and  the  Lord  only  knows 
how  many  things  she  would  make  me  say  of  which  I  never 

One  real  and  serious  cause  of  unhappiness  for  Josephine 
was  removed  in  part  this  summer.  It  was  her  daughter 
Hortense's  trouble.  The  poor  Queen  of  Holland  had  for  a 
long  time  been  hopelessly  embroiled  with  the  King,  Louis 
Bonaparte,  and  her  daily  letters  to  her  mother  during  the 
winter  and  spring  were  hysterical  cries  of  bitterness  and 
despair.  Josephine  shows  nowhere  in  better  light  than  in 
her  replies.  During  all  this  period  of  her  own  sorrow  she 
wrote  constantly  to  Hortense  letters  full  of  cheer,  of  wise 
counsel,  and  of  the  tenderest  affection.  The  doubt  of  the  Em- 
peror which  seized  her  now  and  then  she  never  allowed  Hor- 
tense to  entertain.  She  never  advised  anything  but  courage 
and  forbearance  in  her  relations  to  King  Louis.  She  held 
before  her  her  duty  to  her  little  sons,  to  the  people  of  Hol- 
land, who  had  always  loved  her,  and  to  her  mother.  In  July, 
Louis  put  an  end  to  the  sad  situation  by  abdicating  his 

IS,      i?8j-i8]7. 

King  of   Hollmnd,  and 


throne,  which  by  the  Constitution  went  to  the  Queen.  Na- 
poleon promptly  annexed  Holland  to  France.  **  This  eman- 
cipates the  queen,"  the  Emperor  wrote  to  Josephine,  **  and 
your  unhappy  daughter  can  come  to  Paris,  where,  with  her 
sons,  she  will  be  perfectly  happy."  It  was  not  going  to 
Paris,  however,  that  pleased  Hortense;  it  was  release  from 
Louis,  the  care  of  her  sons,  and  rejoining  her  mother.  In- 
deed, Louis  Bonaparte's  cowardly  conduct  in  Holland 
brought  great  relief  to  both  Hortense  and  Josephine,  es- 
pecially was  the  latter  happy  at  being  able  to  have  the  chil- 
dren, Napoleon-Louis  and  Louis  Napoleon,  or  little  Oiii-oiii, 
as  she  called  him,  (afterwards  Napoleon  III.)  with  her. 
She  really  was  an  ideal  grandmother,  everybody  conceded, 
the  children  first  of  all.  Their  opinion  was  happily  ex- 
pressed once  by  Louis,  who,  when  a  lady  of  the  court  was 
leaving  to  see  her  husband,  said  soberly,  **  She  must  love  M. 

A very  much  if  she  will  leave  grandmama  to  go  and 

see  him." 

When  Josephine  left  Malmaison  in  June,  she  had  intended 
traveling  in  Italy,  after  Switzerland,  and  spending  the  win- 
ter at  Milan  with  her  son.  Her  old  terror  of  being  forgot- 
ten by  the  Emperor  and  driven  from  France  seized  her  in 
September,  however,  and  for  weeks  she  tormented  herself 
w^ith  the  notion  that  it  was  Napoleon's  plan  not  to  allow  her 
to  return  to  France.  She  had  no  reason  for  the  supposition 
beyond  the  gossip  which  came  to  her  and  the  fears  of  her 
own  sore  heart;  but  this  was  enough  to  persuade  her  so 
thoroughly  that  she  was  to  be  exiled  that  her  health  began  to 
fail.  She  succeeded,  too,  in  communicating  her  fears  to  the 
ladies  of  her  suite,  and  the  little  company  made  themselves 
wretched  in  the  classical  feminine  way  over  a  possibility  for 
which  there  was  no  foundation  whatever. 

Finally,  Josephine  wrote  a  humble  letter  to  Napoleon,  ask- 
ing permission  to  spend  the  winter  at  Navarre.     He  replied 


at  once,  that  of  course  she  might  go  there  if  she  would.  The 
household  were  thrown  in  hysterical  transports  of  joy  by  this 
permission,  and  they  hastened  northward  for  a  long  winter 
in  a  provincial  chateau  as  if  Italy  was  a  prison  and  the  honors 
they  would  have  received  there  mockery  and  insult. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Navarre  was  not  a  suitable  winter 
residence  even  when  in  the  best  condition,  and  that  the 
changes  and  repairs  planned  were  still  incomplete,  Josephine 
and  her  household  passed  a  really  happy  winter  and  spring 
there.  The  life  was  a  simple  and  wholesome  one,  free  from 
the  exacting  ceremonies  and  the  tiresome  restraints  of  the 
court,  and  the  health  of  them  all,  and  notably  of  Josephine, 
improved.  Instead  of  late  hours  and  heated  rooms  and 
great  crowds,  there  were  the  healthy  habits  of  the  country, 
constant  outdoor  sports,  the  plain  people  of  Evreux.  Jo- 
sephine found  the  headaches,  which  for  so  long  a  time  had 
tormented  her,  almost  totally  disappearing.  As  her  health 
improved  she  wept  less,  and  her  eyes,  which  she  had  seri- 
ously injured  since  the  divorce,  by  her  constant  tears,  grew 
better.  The  unfailing  sweetness  of  her  disposition  in  her 
trial  had,  up  to  this  time,  been  combined  with  such  weak- 
ness and  suspicions  that  its  beauty  had  been  obscured. 
When,  one  after  another,  her  alarms  proved  to  be  un- 
founded; when  each  time  she  found  she  received  what  she 
asked;  when  Napoleon  continued  to  write  her  as  a  dear 
friend,  to  visit  her  from  time  to  time,  to  do  for  her  children ; 
when,  after  the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome,  he  even  arranged 
that  she  should  see  the  child,  and  when  from  every  side  she 
continued  to  hear  praise  for  her  sacrifice  which  had 
made  an  heir  possible,  she  took  courage.  With  the  re- 
turn of  peace  to  her  distracted  heart,  she  began  to  fill  her  life 
fuller  of  useful  and  pleasant  occupations.  She  established 
a  school  at  Navarre,  where  poor  children  were  taught ;  she 
improved  the  town  promenade,  and  built  a  little  theater ;  she 


fed  the  hungry,  cared  for  the  sick ;  proved  herself,  indeed,  a 
veritable  providence  to  the  whole  country-side. 

In  her  own  family,  too,  she  was  a  good  genius.  Hor- 
tense  was  now  at  the  court  of  Marie  Louise,  and  Josephine 
was  as  ever  her  confidant  and  adviser.  The  two  little  princes 
she  kept  much  with  her,  relieving  Hortense  of  their  care. 
Napoleon  was  particularly  pleased  with  this  arrangement, 
knowing  how  much  it  would  do  to  make  Josephine  happy, 
and  feeling,  too,  that  her  training  was  an  excellent  thing  for 
the  lads.  Even  when  the  children  were  with  Hortense,  much 
of  her  time  was  taken  up  with  providing  playthings  for  them 
and  for  the  little  folks  at  Milan.  Mile.  Ducrest  says  that 
the  salon  at  Malmaison  often  looked  like  a  warehouse  in 
the  Rue  du  Coq,  so  full  was  it  of  toys,  and  there  was  no 
surer  way  of  pleasing  Josephine  than  admiring  the  trifles 
she  was  constantly  buying  for  her  grandchildren. 

Eugene  frequently  made  brief  visits  to  Napoleon,  and  Jo- 
sephine's pride  in  him  and  in  the  place  he  held  in  the  Emper- 
or's respect  and  affection  was  great.  She  rejoiced  that  Eu- 
gene was  happy  in  his  married  life,  loved  his  wife,  the  good 
and  beautiful  Augusta,  daughter  of  the  King  of  Bavaria; 
and  when  she  went  to  Italy  to  visit  the  court  at  Milan,  as 
she  did  in  Eugene's  absence  in  181 2,  at  the  confinement  of 
the  princess,  she  came  away  with  her  heart  abrim  with  ma- 
ternal joy. 

Indeed,  Josephine  grew  more  and  more  beloved  through- 
out the  years  181 1  and  181 2  as  she  added  cheerfulness  and 
courage  to  her  amiability.  **  You  are  adored  at  Milan," 
wrote  Eugene  to  her  once.  **  They  are  writing  me  charm- 
ing things  about  you.  You  turn  the  head  of  everybody  who 
comes  near  you."  Even  Marie  Louise  laid  aside  her  jeal- 
ousy of  Josephine  after  the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome,  and 
by  many  little  attentions  to  Hortense  added  to  Josephine's 


happiness.     She  was  something  in  France,  she  felt;    she 
was  honored,  her  place  was  secure. 

Nobody  was  better  satisfied  than  Napoleon  himself  at 
seeing  Josephine  take  the  position  he  had  conceived  she 
should  have,  and  her  returning  cheerfulness  was  a  constant 
pleasure  to  him.  Only  one  subject  of  contention  seems  to 
have  occurred  between  them  at  this  period  that  was  the  old 
one  of  Josephine's  extravagance.  She  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  live  wnthin  her  income,  and  finally  Napoleon  took 
the  matter  rigorously  in  hand,  writing  to  the  Minister  of 
the  Public  Exchequer  the  following  letter: — 

1st  November,  1811. 

You  will  do  well  to  send  privately  for  the  Empress  Josephine's 
comptroller  and  make  him  aware  that  nothing  will  be  paid  over  to  him. 
unless  proof  is  furnished  that  there  are  no  debts;  and,  as  I  will  have  no 
shilly-shallying  on  the  subject,  this  must  be  guaranteed  on  the 
comptroller's  own  property.  You  will  therefore  notify  the  comptroller, 
that  from  the  ist  of  Januar\'  next,  no  payment  will  be  made,  either  in 
your  office,  or  by  the  Crown  Treasury,  until  he  has  given  an  undertaking 
that  no  debts  exist,  and  made  his  own  property  responsible  for  the 
fact.  I  have  information  that  the  expenditure  in  that  household  is  ex- 
ceedingly careless.  You  will,  therefore,  see  the  comptroller,  and  put 
yourself  in  possession  of  all  facts  regarding  money  matters;  for  it  is 
absurd  that  instead  of  saving  two  millions  of  money,  as  the  Empress 
should  have  done,  she  should  have  more  debts  to  be  paid.  It  will  be 
easy  for  you  to  find  out  the  truth  about  this  from  the  comptroller,  and 
to  make  him  understand  that  he  himself  might  be  seriously  compromised. 

Take  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  Empress  Josephine  yourself,  and 
give  her  to  understand  that  I  trust  her  household  will  be  managed  with 
more  economy,  and  that  if  any  debts  arc  left  outstanding,  she  will  incur 
my  sovereign  displeasure.  The  Empress  Louise  has  only  looooo 
crowns;  she  pays  everything  every  week;  she  does  without  gowns,  and 
denies  herself,  so  as  never  to  owe  money. 

My  intention  is,  then,  that  from  the  ist  of  January,  no  payment  shall 
be  made  for  the  Empress  Josephine's  household  without  a  certificate 
from  the  comptroller,  to  the  effect  that  she  has  no  debts.  Look  into  her 
budget  for  181 1.  and  that  prepared  for  181 2.  It  should  not  amount  to 
more  than  a  million.  If  too  many  horses  are  kept,  some  of  them  must 
be  put  down.     The  Empress  Josephine,  who  has  children  and  grand- 


children,  ought  to  economise,  and  so  be  of  some  use  to  them,  instead  of 
running  into  debt. 

I  desire  you  will  not  make  any  more  payments  to  Queen  Hortense, 
either  on  account  of  her  appanage,  or  for  wood-felling,  without  asking 
my  permission.  Confer  with  her  comptroller  too,  so  that  her  household 
may  be  properly  managed,  and  that  she  may  not  only  keep  out  of  debt, 
but  regulate  her  expenditure  in  a  fitting  manner. 



DURING     CAMPAIGN     OF      1813 FLIGHT     FROM     PARIS 

DEATH  IN   18 14 

BY  the  spring  of  1812  Josephine  had  adjusted  herself 
admirably  to  her  new  life.  She  had  conquered 
her  suspicions,  acquired  self-control,  taken  up  useful 
duties.  Her  position  was  recognized  by  all  France.  In 
every  quarter  she  was  loved  and  honored.  Never  indeed  in 
all  her  disordered,  changeful  existence  was  she  so  worthy  of 
respect  and  affection.  With  every  week  her  power  of  self- 
control,  her  capacity  for  happiness  seemed  to  grow.  In  the 
spring  she  spent  some  time  with  Hortense  at  the  chateau  of 
Saint  Leu,  the  latter's  countrv  home.  After  she  returned 
to  Malmaison,  she  wrote  back  a  letter  which  show's  to  what  a 
large  degree  she  had  regained  contentment.  "  The  few 
days  I  spent  with  you,''  she  wrote  Hortense,  "  were  very 
happy,  and  did  me  great  good.  Everybody  who  comes  to 
see  me  says  that  I  never  looked  better,  and  I  am  not  surprised 
at  it.  My  health  always  depends  on  my  experiences,  and 
those  with  you  were  sweet  and  happy." 

In  June,  the  campaign  against  Russia,  for  which  Napo- 
leon had  been  preparing  for  several  months,  began ;  but  there 
is  no  indication  that  Josephine  had  any  anxiety  in  seeing  the 
Grand  Army  set  out.  Had  she  not  seen  the  Emperor  return 
from  Italy,  from  Austerlitz,  Jena,  and  Wagram?  In  July 
she  went  to  Milan,  to  remain  with  the  Princess  Augusta, 
Eugene's  wife,  through  her  confinement.     She  seemed  to 



get  great  pleasure  from  her  visit.  The  princess  she  found 
charming,  the  children  could  not  be  better,  everybody  treated 
her  with  a  consideration  and  an  affection  which  touched  her 
deeply.  She  seems  to  have  been  happy  at  Milan  for  the  most 
natural,  wholesome  reasons — because  her  son's  wife  is  a 
good  woman  and  loves  her  husband ;  because  the  new  grand- 
daughter is  a  healthy  child;  because  the  good  people  of 
Milan  remember  her,  and  love  her. 

Josephine  took  great  satisfaction  at  this  time,  too,  in  Eu- 
gene's success.  He  was,  in  fact,  justifying  fully  in  Russia 
the  good  opinion  the  Emperor  had  always  had  of  him,  and 
his  letters  to  his  mother  were  almost  exultant.  "  The  Em- 
peror gained  a  great  victory  over  the  Russians  to-day,"  he 
wrote  her  on  September  8th.  "  We  fought  for  thirteen 
hours,  and  I  commanded  the  left.  We  all  did  our  duty,  and  I 
hope  the  Emperor  is  satisfied."  And  again,  "  I  write  you 
only  two  words,  my  good  mother,  to  tell  you  that  I  am  well. 
My  corps  had  a  brilliant  day  yesterday.  I  had  to  deal  with 
eight  divisions  of  the  enemy  from  morning  until  night,  and 
I  kept  my  position.  The  Emperor  is  pleased,  and  you  can 
believe  that  I  am." 

But  the  joy  of  victory  was  not  long  continued.  Moscow 
was  entered  on  September  15th,  1812.  The  exultation  that 
the  capture  of  the  enemy's  capital  caused  in  France  was 
short-lived.  Close  upon  it  came  reports  of  the  burning  of 
the  city,  of  the  awful  cost  of  the  march  inland,  of  the 
suffering  the  army  was  undergoing.  When  Josephine 
reached  Paris  in  October,  the  city  was  full  of  sinister  re- 
ports of  defeat.  A  plot  to  seize  the  government,  based  on 
a  report  of  Napoleon's  death,  had  just  been  suppressed.  Her 
letters  from  Eugene  had  talked  only  of  victory.  What  could 
it  mean?  As  she  listened  to  the  reports  afloat  and  came 
under  the  spell  of  the  city's  foreboding,  a  deadly  despair 
seized  her.     At  the  mere  mention  of  Napoleon's  name  she 

Engiaved  by  Longhr,  aflei  Gerard,  Milan,  1813. 


wept.  Her  face  carried  such  woe  that  her  household  feared 
that  worse  evils  had  befallen  them  than  they  knew  of,  and 
Malmaison  for  weeks  was  wrapped  in  gloom. 

This  was  her  condition  when  suddenly  it  was  reported  that 
Napoleon  had  returned  unannounced  from  Russia.  Amazed 
at  the  extent  of  the  conspiracy  which  had  arisen  in  his  ab- 
sence and  at  the  instability  of  the  throne  at  the  mere  report 
of  his  own  death,  and  fearing  still  more  serious  results  when 
the  full  news  of  the  catastrophe  in  Russia  reached  France, 
the  Emperor  had  driven  night  and  day  across  Europe  to 
Paris.  His  presence  inspired  courage,  but  it  could  not  close 
the  ears  of  France  to  the  ghastly  stories  of  the  retreat  from 
Moscow,  nor  blind  her  eyes  to  the  haggard  remnants  of  men 
who  daily  flocked  into  the  city.  There  was  an  appearance  of 
gaiety,  because  the  Emperor  ordered  it ;  but  there  was  little 
heart  in  the  winter's  merry-making. 

Napoleon's  return  did  not  restore  Josephine's  confidence. 
Her  superstition,  always  lively,  asserted  itself  to  the  full. 
The  first  day  of  the  new  year,  1813,  was  on  Friday.  Jo- 
sephine's presentiments  were  the  darkest.  This  year  would 
bring  Napoleon  sorrow  and  loss,  she  declared.  France  was 
to  suffer.  Nothing  could  restore  her  calm.  In  all  this  grief 
the  thought  was  ever  present  with  her  that  the  divorce  was 
the  cause  of  Napoleon's  misfortunes.  He  had  destroyed  his 
Star.  Nor  was  she  by  any  means  alone  in  this  theory.  In- 
deed, it  is  probable  that  she  had  adopted  it  from  others,  for 
many  people  in  France  had  always  believed  it.  Even  in  the 
Grand  Army,  during  the  campaign  against  Russia,  soldiers 
said,  after  reverses  began,  that  it  was  because  of  the  divorce. 
"  He  shouldn't  have  left  the  old  girl,"  they  put  it ;  "  she 
brought  him  luck — and  us  too." 

In  the  spring  of  181 3,  the  Emperor  was  off  again  at  the 
head  of  the  army  which  by  feverish  efforts  he  had  gathered 
and  equipped.     Josephine  saw  the  new  campaign  begin  with 



foreboding;  she  watched  its  doubtful  progress  with  growing 
dismay,  and  finally  when  in  November,  the  French  army,  de- 
feated, and  with  its  allies  daily  deserting,  crossed  the  Rhine, 
her  anguish  was  pitiful.  Napoleon's  name  was  incessantly 
on  her  lips,  and  of  everybody  who  came  within  her  range 
that  knew  anything  of  him  she  asked  a  hundred  eager  ques- 
tions. How  did  he  look?  Was  he  pale?  Did  he  sleep? 
Did  he  believe  his  Star  had  deserted  him  ? 

When  Eugene's  father-in-law,  the  King  of  Bavaria, 
abandoned  his  alliance  with  the  Emperor,  Josephine  urged 
upon  her  son  loyalty  and  energy;  and  when  Louis  Bona- 
parte moved  by  his  brother's  misfortunes,  hurried  to  offer 
his  services,  Josephine  pointed  out  to  Hortense,  who,  she 
thought,  might  reasonably  expect  new  annoyance  if  Louis's 
offer  was  accepted^  that  her  husband's  act  was  a  noble  one 
and  that  Hortense  should  view  it  so.  Hortense  seems  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  to  have  felt  more  respect  for  her  husband 
when  she  heard  of  his  offer  to  return  than  she  had  for  many 

During  the  advance  of  the  allies  towards  Paris  and  the 
wonderful  resistance  Napoleon  offered  for  many  weeks,  Jo- 
sephine remained  at  Malmaison  feverishly  questioning  every- 
body who  came.  As  the  battles  grew  nearer,  she  interested 
herself  in  hospital  work,  and  set  her  household  to  making 
lint.  Now  and  then  she  received  a  note  from  the  Emperor 
— a  characteristic  note  of  triumph — never  of  fear  or  com- 
plaint. These  notes  she  always  retired  to  read  and  to  weep 
over,  and  afterwards  she  spent  hours  talking  of  them  to  her 

As  the  end  of  March  approached  the  allies  were  so  near 
Paris  that  Josephine  saw  bodies  of  strangely  uniformed  men 
passing  and  repassing  near  Malmaison — Cossacks,  Aus- 
trians,  Prussians.  What  could  it  all  mean?  Hortense,  at 
the  court  of  Marie  Louise,  sent  her  daily  notes,  telling  her  of 


the  hopes  and  fears  of  Paris.  Invariably  these  notes  were 
courageous,  showing  perfect  confidence  in  the  final  triumph 
of  Napoleon.  When  at  last,  on  March  28th,  Hortense 
learned  that  Marie  Louise  and  the  court  were  leaving  the 
city,  her  indignation  was  intense.  She  could  do  nothing, 
however.  It  was  her  duty  to  accompany  Marie  Louise,  and 
she  had  only  time  before  departing  to  send  a  note  to  Jose- 
phine, urging  her  to  go  to  Navarre. 

"  My  dear  Hortense,"  Josephine  replied,  "  up  to  the  mo- 
ment I  received  your  letter  I  kept  my  courage.  I  cannot 
endure  the  thought  that  I  am  to  be  separated  from  you,  and 
God  knows  for  how  long !  I  am  following  your  counsel ;  I 
shall  go  to-morrow  to  Navarre.  I  have  only  sixteen  men  in 
my  guard  here,  and  they  are  all  wounded.  I  shall  keep  them ; 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  do  not  need  them.  I  am  so  wretched 
at  being  separated  from  my  children  that  I  am  indifferent 
about  what  happens  to  myself.  Try  to  send  me  word  how 
you  are,  what  you  will  do,  and  where  you  will  go.  I  shall 
try  to  follow  you  from  afar,  at  least." 

Early  on  March  29th,  the  little  household  started  through 
rain  and  mud.  Josephine's  terror  was  complete.  She  fan- 
cied she  would  be  waylaid  by  Cossacks ;  and  once  when  she 
saw  a  band  of  soldiers  approaching,  she  jumped  from  her 
carriage,  and  fled  across  the  fields  alone.  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  her  attendants  convinced  her  that  the  strangers 
were  French,  not  foreign  soldiers. 

Once  at  Navarre,  she  spent  much  of  her  time  alone — a 
practice  quite  unlike  her, — reading  and  re-reading  Napo- 
leon's letters.  One  of  them  she  carried  always  in  her  bosom. 
It  had  been  sent  from  Brienne,  only  a  short  time  before  the 
abdication,  and  contained  the  most  touching  expressions  of 
his  affection  for  her  to  be  found  in  any  of  his  later  letters : 
"  I  have  sought  death  in  numberless  engagements ;  I  no 
longer  dread  its  approach ;   I  should  now  hail  it  as  a  boon. 


.  .  .     Nevertheless,  I  still  wish  to  see  Josephine  once  more." 

A  few  days  after  Josephine's  arrival  at  Navarre,  Hortense 
joined  her,  and  tliere  the  two  learned  of  Napoleon's  abdica- 
tion and  of  the  return  of  the  Bourbons.  After  the  first 
paroxysm  of  grief  was  over,  they  began  planning  for  the 
future.  Hortense  would  go  to  America,  with  her  children, 
she  declared.  There  she  could  rear  them  so  that  they  would 
be  fit  for  any  future.  But  Josephine  was  not  for  renouncing 
her  position.  She  began  to  write  feverishly  in  every  direc- 
tion, apparently  hoping  to  interest  her  friends  in  saving 
something  for  her  in  the  general  overthrow.  The  allies  had 
no  disposition,  however,  to  take  from  Josephine  either  her 
rank  or  all  her  income.  The  Emperor  Alexander,  who 
was  the  real  umpire  of  the  game,  believed  it  wise  to  look 
after  the  material  interests  of  the  Bonaparte  family^  and  in 
the  treaty  arranged  that  Josephine  should  have  an  annual 
income  of  1,000,000  francs  and  that  she  should  keep  all  of 
her  property,  disposing  of  it  as  she  pleased.  Alexander 
showed  a  strong  desire  to  win  Josephine's  favor,  in  fact. 
Learning  that  she  was  at  Navarre,  he  invited  her  to  Mal- 
maison,  giving  her  every  assurance  that  she  would  be  safe 
there.  Before  the  end  of  April,  she  came  with  Hortense, 
and  here  Eugene  joined  them.  Alexander  soon  came  to 
Malmaison  to  see  the  Empress.  His  attentions  to  her  set 
the  vogue  for  the  court,  and  repeated  assurances  came  from 
all  sides  to  Josephine  that  her  position  and  that  of  her  chil- 
dren was  safe  with  the  new  rdgime.  But  Josephine  could 
not  believe  it  so.  Her  days  and  nights  were  full  of  forebod- 
ing— of  laments  over  the  fate  of  the  Emperor.  One  day, 
after  dining  with  Alexander  at  the  Chateau  of  St.  Leu,  she 
returned  to  her  room  in  complete  collapse. 

"  I  cannot  overcome  the  frightful  sadness  which  has  taken 
possession  of  me,"  she  said.    *'  I  make  every  effort  to  conceal 


it  from  my  children,  but  only  suffer  the  more.  I  am  be- 
ginning to  lose  my  courage.  The  Emperor  of  Russia  has 
certainly  shown  great  regard  and  affection  for  us,  but  it  is 
nothing  but  words.  What  will  he  decide  to  do  with  my  son, 
my  daughter  and  her  children  ?  Is  he  not  in  a  position  to  do 
something  for  them  ?  Do  you  know  what  will  happen  when 
he  has  gone  away  ?  Nothing  he  has  promised  will  be  carried 
out.  I  shall  see  my  children  unhappy,  and  I  cannot  endure 
the  idea;  it  causes  me  the  most  dreadful  suffering.  I  am 
suffering  enough  already  on  account  of  the  fate  of  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon,  stripped  of  all  his  greatness,  sent  into  an 
island  far  from  France,  abandoned.  Must  I,  besides  this, 
see  my  children  wanderers?  Stripped  of  fortune?  It  seems 
to  me  this  idea  is  going  to  kill  me.  ...  Is  it  Austria  who 
opposes  my  son's  advancement?  Is  it  the  Bourbons?  Cer- 
tainly they  are  under  obligations  enough  to  me  to  be  willing 
to  pay  them  by  helping  my  children.  Have  I  not  been  good 
to  all  of  their  party  in  their  misfortunes?  To  be  sure,  I 
never  imagined  they  would  come  back  to  France ;  neverthe- 
less, it  pleased  me  to  be  their  friend ;  they  were  Frenchmen, 
they  were  suffering,  they  were  former  acquaintances,  and  the 
position  of  those  princes  that  I  had  seen  in  their  youth 
touched  my  heart.  Did  I  not  ask  Bonaparte  twenty  times  to 
let  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  and  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon 
come  back?  It  was  through  me  that  he  succored  them  in 
their  distress,  that  he  allowed  them  a  pension  which  they 
received  in  a  foreign  country.'* 

The  attention  paid  her  by  the  allies  seemed  to  leave  no 
ground  for  any  of  these  anxieties.  The  King  of  Prussia 
and  his  sons,  the  grand-dukes  of  Russia,  every  great  man  in 
Paris,  in  fact,  sought  Josephine  repeatedly.  She  distrusted 
it  all,  and  one  moment  wept  over  the  fate  of  herself  and 
children;  the  next  over  Napoleon  alone  on  his  island — re- 
peatedly she  declared  she  would  join  him  if  she  did  not  fear 


it  would  cause  a  misunderstanding  between  him  and  Marie 
Louise,  and  so  prevent  the  latter  from  going  to  Elba,  as 
Josephine  thought  she  ought  to  do.  In  her  nervous  state  she 
searched  for  signs  of  the  neglect  and  discourtesy  which  she 
believed  were  in  store  for  her.  She  planned  to  sell  her 
jewels.  Everyone  in  the  household  became  thoroughly  dis- 
turbed over  her  condition.  *'  My  mother  is  courageous  and 
amiable,  when  she  is  receiving,"  Hortense  said  one  day; 
'*  but  as  soon  as  she  is  alone,  she  gives  up  to  a  grief  which  is 
my  despair.  I  am  afraid  that  the  misfortunes  which  have 
fallen  upon  us  have  affected  her  too  deeply  and  that  her 
health  will  never  reassert  itself.'* 

Josephine  was  in  this  nervous  condition  when  she  took  a 
severe  cold,  and  on  May  25th  her  condition  was  so  serious 
that  the  best  physicians  of  Paris  were  summoned.  The  Em- 
peror of  Russia  sent  his  private  physician,  and  went  himself 
frequently  to  Malmaison.  Everything  that  could  be  done 
was  done,  but  poor  Josephine's  power  of  resistance  was  at  an 
end.  Restlessly  tossing  hour  after  hour  on  her  pillow,  mur- 
muring at  intervals — **  Bonaparte  " — "  Elba  " — **  Marie 
Louise  " — she  lay  for  four  days.  On  the  morning  of  the 
29th.  it  was  evident  to  Hortense  and  Eugene,  evident  to  Jo- 
sephine herself,  that  she  could  not  live  long.  The  priest 
was  summoned,  and  alone  with  him  she  confessed  for  the 
last  time,  while  in  the  chapel  below  her  children  knelt  and 
listened  to  the  mass  said  for  their  mother.  After  the  con- 
fession, the  members  of  the  household  gathered  about  her 
bed  while  the  sacrament  was  administered.  A  few  moments 
after  the  last  words  of  the  solemn  service  were  said,  the 
Empress  was  pronounced  dead. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Josephine  produced  a  profound 
impression  in  Paris.  She  had  died  of  grief,  they  said,  grief 
at  Napoleon's  downfall.     Even  those  who  had  no  sympathy 


for  her  in  life  were  moved  by  the  tragic  circumstances  of 
her  end  and  hastened  to  pay  a  last  tribute  to  her  memory. 
For  three  days  the  body  of  the  Empress  lay  on  a  catafalque 
in  the  vestibule  of  the  chateau  at  Malmaison,  and  in  that 
time  over  20,000  persons  looked  upon  it. 

At  the  funeral,  which  took  place  on  June  2nd,  in  the  little 
church  at  Reuil,  near  Malmaison,  royal  honors  were  ac- 
corded Josephine ;  though  the  really  touching  feature  of  the 
procession  and  service  was  the  presence  of  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple— soldiers,  peasants,  old  men,  children — who  came  to  pay 
the  only  tribute  possible  to  them  to  the  **  good  Josephine," 
the  '*  Star  '*  of  the  Emperor. 

The  Empress  still  lies  in  the  little  church  at  Reuil,  where 
she  was  laid  eighty-six  years  ago,  and  her  grave  and 
the  Chateau  of  Malmaison  have  remained  until  to-day, 
places  of  pilgrimage  for  those  who  knew  and  loved  her  in 
life  as  well  as  for  many  thousands  whose  hearts  have  been 
touched  by  the  melancholy  story  of  her  life  of  adventure, 
glory,  and  sorrow.  In  June,  181 5,  before  departing  for 
Waterloo,  Napoleon  visited  the  chateau.  Hortense,  who 
had  not  been  there  since  her  mother's  death,  received  him. 
For  an  hour  he  walked  in  the  park  talking  of  Josephine; 
then  he  went  over  the  chateau,  looking  at  every  room,  at 
almost  every  article  of  furniture.  At  the  door  of  the  room 
where  Josephine  had  died,  it  is  told  that  he  stopped  and  said 
to  Hortense,  "  My  daughter,  I  wish  to  go  in  alone.*'  When 
he  came  out  his  eyes  were  wet. 

Scarcely  more  than  two  weeks  later  he  returned  to  Mal- 
maison. Defeated  at  Waterloo,  he  was  an  outcast  unless 
France  rallied  to  him.  That  the  country  could  not  do.  It 
was  thus  from  the  home  of  Josephine  that  Napoleon  went 
into  captivity. 

In  1824,  Eugene  and  Hortense,  both  exiles  from  France 
since  181 5,  bought  one  of  the  chapels  in  the  church  at  Reuil 


and  placed  in  it  the  beautiful  monument  to  Josephine  which 
is  to  be  seen  there  to-day.  In  1831,  Hortense  crossed  France 
incognito  with  Louis-Napoleon,  and  the  two  then,  for  the 
first  time,  saw  the  monument.  From  Reuil  they  went  to 
Malmaison,  but  only  to  the  gates.  Five  years  before,  the 
chateau  had  been  sold  to  a  Swedish  banker,  and  the  porter 
refused  Hortense  admission  because  she  had  no  pass  from 
the  proprietor. 

Seven  years  after  this  sad  visit,  Hortense  was  brought 
to  Reuil  to  be  laid  beside  her  mother.  But  it  was  not  until 
twelve  years  later,  when  her  son,  Josephine's  beloved  Out- 
out,  Louis-Napoleon,  had  become  emperor,  that  a  monument 
was  placed  in  the  church  to  her  memory.  With  the  return  of 
the  Bonapartes  to  power,  the  memory  of  Josephine  became 
a  cult.  It  was  she  alone  of  all  the  women  who  for  seventy 
years  had  ruled  France,  Napoleon  III.  told  his  people,  w^ho 
had  brought  them  happiness.  Her  statue  was  reared  in 
Paris;  her  name  was  given  to  a  grand  avenue;  Malmaison 
was  bought,  made  more  brilliant  than  ever,  and  thrown  open 
to  visitors.  On  every  hand  her  life  was  extolled,  her  char- 
acter glorified.  As  a  resuh  of  this  attempt  at  canonization, 
Josephine  became  for  the  world  a  pure  and  gentle  heroine, 
the  victim  of  her  own  unselfish  devotion  to  the  man  she 
loved.  With  the  passing  of  the  Napoleonic  dynasty,  it  has 
become  possible  to  study  her  life  dispassionately.  The  re- 
searches show  her  to  have  been  much  less  of  a  saint  than 
Napoleon  III.  wished  the  world  to  believe. 

Josephine  was  by  birth  and  training  the  victim  of  a 
vicious  system.  Her  nature  was  essentially  shallow,  her 
strongest  passions  being  for  attention,  gaiety,  and  the 
possession  of  beautiful  apparel  and  jewels.  Nothing  in  her 
early  surroundings  showed  her  that  there  were  better  things 
in  life  to  pursue.  None  of  the  hard  experiences  of  later  life 
dimmed  these  passions.     To  gratify  them  she  was  willing  to 


adapt  herself  to  any  society,  and  freely  give  her  person  to 
the  lover  who  promised  most.  It  would  be  unjust  to  judge 
her  by  the  orderly  standards  of  present-day  Anglo-Saxon 
morality — she,  an  eighteenth  century  Creole,  cast  almost  a 
child  into  the  chaotic  whirl  of  the  French  Revolution.  What 
purity  or  dignity  could  be  expected  of  a  child  of  her  nature 
when  her  chief  protectors,  her  father,  her  aunt,  and  her  hus- 
band, were  all  notoriously  unfaithful  to  the  most  sacred 
relations  of  life!  If  Josephine,  when  abandoned  by  her  hus- 
band and  later  thrown  on  her  own  resources  in  a  society 
which  w^as  honey-combed  with  vice,  went  with  her  world, 
one  can  only  pity. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  if  she  had  been  faithful  to  Na- 
poleon from  the  beginning  of  their  married  life,  her  future 
with  him  would  have  been  different.  The  fatal  disillusion  he 
suffered  in  1797  made  the  divorce  possible  for  him.  So  long 
as  Josephine  was  true,  no  other  woman  could  have  existed 
for  him.  Such  is  the  strange  exclusiveness  in  love,  of  a 
nature,  brutal,  sweet,  and  strong  like  Napoleon's.  It  should 
never  be  forgotten,  however,  that  when  the  poor  little  Creole 
realized,  that  to  keep  her  position  she  must  be  faithful,  she 
never  after  gave  offens^,  and  that  as  the  years  went  on  her 
devotion  to  her  husband  became  a  cult.  Nothing  indeed 
in  the  history  of  women  is  more  pathetic  than  the  patience, 
the  sweetness,  with  which  Josephine  performed  all  the  ex- 
acting and  uncongenial  duties  of  her  position  as  Empress. 

Although  Josephine  possessed  none  of  those  qualities 
which  make  a  heroic  soul,  knew  nothing  of  true  self-denial, 
was  a  coward  in  danger,  never  lost  sight  of  personal  interest, 
was  an  abject  time-server,  few  women  have  been  loved  more 
sincerely  by  those  surrounding  them.  There  was  good  rea- 
son for  this.  No  word  of  malice  ever  crossed  her  lips,  she 
took  no  joy  in  seeing  an  enemy  suffer,  she  never  intrigued, 
she  nevci*  flagged  in  kindly  service.    If  she  was  incapable  of 






I  ;  heroic  deeds  at  least  her  days  were  filled  with  small  courte- 

I I  i>ies,  kind  words,  generous  acts.     A  candid  survey  of   her 
*  '  life  destroys  the  heroine,  but  it  leaves  a  woman  who  through 

a  stormy  life  kept  a  kindly  heart  towards  friend  and  enemy 
and  wiio  at  last  attained  rectitude  of  conduct. 

And  this  is  the  most  that  can  be  said  for  her.     It  touches 
the  woman  Josei)hine  only.     As  for  the  Empress  Josephine, 
she  IS  only  a  name.    She  held  her  throne  bv  the  accident  of 
her  marriage  and  never  took  it  seriously.    She  never  compre- 
hended the  ideas  it  stood  for  in  the  mind  of  the  great  tyrant  ^ 
who  established  it.     The  prosi)erity  of  the  French  j^eople — 
the  glory  of  French  arms,  the  spread  of  just  laws,  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  stable  system,  all  those  notions  for  which  Na- 
])oleon  was  struggling,meant  nothing  to  her  save  as  they  af- 
fected the  tenure  of  her  own  position.    The  one  distinguished 
opportunity  she  had  of  serving  the  Napoleonic  idea — the  di- 
vorce— she  accepted  only  when  she  realized  that  she  could 
not  escape  it.     That  her  graciousness  and  her  kindly  spirit 
smoothed  Napoleon's  way  in  the  difficult  task  of  manufac- 
i\  turing  a  cmirt  and  a  nc^bility  is  un(|uestionable.   But  this  was 

the  service  of  a  tactful  wc^man  of  the  world  rendered  to  a 
husband,  not  of  an  Empress  tt^  her  pet^ple.  The  French  peo- 
ple indeed  meant  n<^  more  to  her  than  her  throne.  They 
merely  filled  the  background  of  the  stage  where  she  played 
her  part.    She  was  an  Empress  only  in  name,  never  in  soul. 

' » 

Autographs   of  Napoleon  from  1785- 


In  the  year  1785,  Napoleon  left  the  Military  School  at 
Paris,  and  was  admitted  as  a  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  regi- 
ment of  La  Fere.  At  this  time  he  signed  like  his  father: 
**  Buonaparte,  younger  son,  gentleman,  at  the  Royal  Mili- 
tary School  of  Paris." 

Napoleon  obtained  a  company  in  1789,  and  in  1792  he; 
was  sent  at  the  head  (^f  a  battalion  of  Volunteer  Infantry, 
which  was  to  take  part  in  an  expedition  against  Sardinia. 
On  returning  from  this  expedition,  he  commanded  the  artil- 

*  This  collection   of   signatures  is  reproduced   from  '*  Napoleon   rccont^  par 
rimage  "  by  Armand  Dayot. 




lery  at  the  siege  of  Toulon.    His  signature  then  was  as  fol- 

After  the  capture  of  Ollioules,  the  3rd  of  December,  1793, 
Napoleon  was  made  General,  and  in  1794  he  commanded 
the  artillery  of  the  Army  of  Italy.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  year  1795  he  was  ordered  to  join  the  Infantry  in  the 
Vendee,  but  he  refused  and  remained  in  Paris,  where  he 
was  attached  to  the  Minister  of  War.  The  5th  of  October 
of  this  year,  he  commanded  under  Barras,  the  Army  of  the 
Convention,  against  the  Sections  of  Paris,  and  became, 
thanks  to  him,  General  of  Division. 

A  little  later  Barras  gave  him  the  Commanding  Chief  of 
the  Army  of  the  Interior. 

Up  to  this  time  Na])oleon  had  not  changed  the  spelling  of 
his  name.  The  heading  of  his  letters  read  "  Buonaparte, 
general  en  chef  de  I'arutee  de  I'interieur,"  and  he  signed 
''  Buonaparte/' 

The  next  signature  is  at  the  end  of  a  note  on  the  Army  of 
Italy  dated  January  19,  1796,  Le  General  Buonaparte. 


In  the  Memorial  from  St.  Helena,  Napoleon  says  that  in 
his  youth  he  signed  Buonaparte  like  his  father,  and  having 
obtained  the  command  of  the  Army  of  Italy,  he  changed  this 
spelling,  which  was  Italian,  but  some  years  later,  being 
among  the  French,  he  signed  Bonaparte. 

Napoleon  was  made  General-in-Chief  of  the  Army  of 
Italy,  the  23rd  of  Feb.,  1796,  and  he  signed  Buonaparte  up 
to  the  29th  of  the  same  month.  He  left  Paris  to  join  the 
Army  towards  the  middle  of  the  following  month,  and  in  the 
first  letter  he  addressed  to  the  Directory,  dated  Nice,  the 
28th  of  March,  from  his  headquarters,  he  informed  them 
that  he  had  taken  command  of  the  Army  the  day  before, 
and  he  signed  himself  Bonaparte. 

From  this  time  the  change  was  generally  adopted,  and  the 
official  letters  bear  the  signature  ''  Bonaparte,  General-in- 
Chief  of  the  Army  of  Italy." 

From  his  headquarters  at  Carcare,  Napoleon  addressed 
to  the  Directory  at  Paris  his  reports  on  the  battle  of  Monte- 
notte,  which  opened  the  Italian  campaign.  This  letter  was 
dated  April  14,  1796,  and  signed  Bonaparte. 

In  his  celebrated  proclamation  from  Milan,  the  20th  of 
March,  1796,  Napoleon  thus  addressed  his  army:  "  Soldiers, 
you  have  i)recipitated  yourselves  like  a  torrent  from  the  top 



of  the  Apennines,  Milan  is  yours!"  and  he  signed  Bona- 

As  General-in-Chief  of  the  Egyptian  Expedition,  Napo- 
leon signed  as  follows: 

From  Cairo,  the  30th  of  July,  1798,  he  signed  himself 

When  he  first  became  Emperor,  he  signed  himself  Na- 



The  above  is  one  of  the  first  signatures  of  the  Emperor. 
It  was  given  at  Saint  Cloud,  the  25th  of  May,  1804.  The 
first  three  letters  NAPoleon,  and  exactly  like  this  in  the 
middle  of  his  signature  when  he  was  accustomed  to  signing 
himself  BuoNAParte.  Up  to  1805  he  continued  to  sign 
his  whole  name.    The  i8th  of  September,  1805,  he  signed: 

After  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  which  ended  the  campaign 
of  1805,  the  proclamation  of  Napoleon,  dated  from  the 
Iruperial  Camp  of  Austerlitz,  the  3rd  of  December,  1805, 
was  signed  Napoleon. 

Beginning  with  the  campaign  of  1806,  he  signed  only  the 
first  five  letters  of  his  name,  thus,  Napol, 



The  26th  of  October,   1806,  at  Potsdam,  the  Emperor 
signed  himself  thus, 

The  29th  of  October,  1806,  from  Beriin,  as  follows: 

The  27th  of  January,  from  Varsovia, 


From  the  Imperial  Camp  at  Tilsit,  the  22n(l  of  June,  1807, 
the  Emperor  signed  only  his  initial,  as  below,  and  very 
rarely  after  that  his  entire  name :  N. 



The  7th  of  December,   1808,  he  signed  from  Madrid, 
thus,  A^. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  campaign  of  1809,  in  writ- 
ing to  Marshall  Massena,  he  signed  himself  as  follows : 

From  the  Imperial  Camp  of  Ratisbonne,  the  24th  of 
April,  1809,  the  Emperor  addressed  a  proclamation  to  the 
Army,  ending  thus,  **  Before  a  month  has  passed,  I  shall  be 
at  Vienna,"  and  he  signed 

Less  than  three  weeks  afterwards,  the  French  Army  was 



at  Vienna,  and  the  Emperor  signed  his  decrees  from  the 
Palace  of  Schoenbrunn,  13th  of  May; 

The  same  variety  of  signatures  is  found  in  the  orders 
dated  Moscow,  the  city  which  he  had  entered  as  a  Con- 
queror, the  1 2th  of  Septeml)er,  181 2. 

The  2 1  St  of  Sept.,  1812,  at  3  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the 
Emperor  signed  himself  as  follows: 

During  the  campaign  of  1813,  the  Emperor  sent  an  order 
from  Dresden  to  the  Major-General,  dated  October  ist,  at 
noon.    General  Petit  relates  that  he  reflected  some  time  be- 



fore  sending  it,  for  the  signature  had  been  scratched  out 
twice,  and  written  a  third  time. 

One  of  the  next  extraordinary  signatures  of  the  Em- 
peror's, is  the  following,  which  he  gave  at  Erfurt,  October 
i3>  1813: 

The  4th  of  April,  1814,  Fontainebleau,  thus,  N. 



The  gth  of  September,  1814,  from  the  Isle  of  Elba,  he 
■writes  thus:  Nap. 

On  July   14,    1815,  the  Emperor  wrote  to  the  Prince 
Regent  of  England  and  signed  himself 

At  Longwood,  St.  Helena,  on  Dec.  11,  1816.  tlie  Em- 
peror wrote  to  Count  Las  Cases  a  letter  of  condolence  on  the 
order  the  Count  had  received  to  leave  the  island.  It  was 
his  first  signature  at  St.  Helena. 


(1746-1785  ) 

From  this 

\.  Joseph  (1768-1844),  married  in  \^^  to 
Marie  Julie  Clary. 

From  this  marriage  : 

(x)  Z^nalde  Charlotte  (1801-1854),  married 
in  1832  to  her  cousin,  Charles  Bona- 
parte, Prince  de  Canino. 

(a)  Charlotte  (180?  i8iq),  married  in  1831 
Napoleon  Louis,  her  cousin,  second 
son  of  Louis. 

2d.  NAPOLEON  I.  (1769-1821),  married 
(i)  Marie  Josephine  Rose  Tascher  de  la 

Pagerie  in  i7<j6. 
(2)  Marie    Ix>uise,  Archduchess  of  Au- 

stria,  in  1810. 

Adopted      the    first     wife's 
children  : 


(i)  Eujifdne  (1781-1821),  who  married  the 
Princess  Augusta  Amelia,  daughter 
of  the  King  of  Bavaria. 

From  this  marriage  : 

0»)  Maximilian  Joseph,  Duke  of  Leuch- 
tenberg,  who  married  in  1839  a 
daughter  of  the  Czar  Nicholas. 

ib)  Josephine,  married  in  1823  to  Oscar 
Bernadotte,  since  King  of  Sweden 
under  the  name  of  Charles  XIV. 

(C)  Eugdnie  Hortcnsc,  married  in  1826 
to  Prince  F'rederick  of  Hohenzol- 
lern  Hechingen. 

td)  Amelie  Augusta,  married  in  1829  to 
I)om  Pedro,  Emperor  of  Brazil. 

(^)  Auguste  Charles,  married  in  1835  to 
Donna  Maria,  Queen  of  Portugal. 

(/)  Thdodeline  Louise,  married  in  1841 
to  William,  Count  of  Wflrtemberg. 

^2)  Eugdnie  Hortense  (1783-1827),  mar- 
ried to  Louis  Bonaparte.  (See  Louis. 

From  second  marriage  : 

Francois  Charles  Joseph  (  NAPOLEON 
II.),  King  of  Rome,  afterwards  Duke 
of  Reichstadt  (1811-1832). 



(1750-1836 ) 

IN    1765. 
marriage  : 

3d.  l.ucien  (1775-1840),  married  : 

(i>   in  1794,  Christine  Elconore  Boyer. 

(a)   in  z8o2,  Madame  Jouberthon. 

From  first  marriage : 

(x)   Charlotte,  married  in  181 5  to  Prince 

Mario  Gabrielli. 
(i)   Christine  Ejcypta,  married  in  1818  to 

Count  Avred  Posse,  a  Swede,  and 

in    i8i4     to    Lord    Dudley    Coutts 


From  second  marriage  : 

(i)  Charles  Lucien  Jules  Laurent, 
Prince  of  Canino,  married  to  elder 
daugfhter  of  Joseph  Bonaparte. 
Charles  Lucien  had  eight  children  : 
Joseph,  who  died  young ;  Lucien  a 
cardinal  in  1868;  Napoleon,  served 
in  French  army ;  Julie,  married 
to  the  Marquis  de  Boccagiovine ; 
Charlotte,  who  became  the  Count- 
ess of  Primoli ;  Augusta,  afterwards 
the  Princess  (rabriclli ;  Marie,  mar- 
ried to  Count  Campello  ;  Bathilde, 
married  to  Count  Cambac^rds. 

(2)  Lcetitia,  married  to  Sir  Thomas 

(3)  Paul,  killed  in  1826. 

(4)  Jeanne,  died  in  1828. 

(5)  Louis  Lucien,  known  as  Prince  Lu- 
cien, and  distinguished  as  a  writer. 

(6)  Pierre  Napoleon,  known  as  Pnnco 
Pierre,  married  to  a  sempstress,  and 
refused  to  give  her  up.  The  oldest 
son  of  Prince  Pierre  is  the  I*rince 
Roland  Bonaparte.  He  would  now 
be  the  chief  of  the  House  of  Bona- 
parte, if  Lucien  had  not  been  cut 
off  from  the  succession. 

(7)  Antoine. 

(8)  Marie,  married  to  the  Viscount  Va- 

(9)  Constance,  who  took  the  veil. 

4th.  Marie  Anne  Eliza  (x777-i8ao),  mar- 
ried  to  Felix  Bacciochi  in  1797. 

From  (kis  marriage  : 

(i)   Charles    Jerome    Bacchiochi    xSio* 

(j)  Napoleone  Eliza,  married  to  Count 






From  ikis 

sth.  Louis  (1778-1846)  married  in  1802  to 
Eugenie  Hortense  de  Beauhaniais, 
daughter  of  Josephine. 

From  this  marriagt : 

(x)  Napoleon  Charleg,  heir-presumptive 
to  the  throne  of  Holland,  died  in 

(a)  Charles  Napoleon  Louis,  married  his 
cousin  Charlotte,  daughter  of  Jos- 
eph ;  died  in  1831. 

(3)   Charles  Louis  Napoleon,  Emperor 
of  the  French  in  18^2,  under  the  title 
of  NAPOLEON  III,  married  in  1853 
to  Eugenie  de   Monti  jo  de  Guzman 
Countess  of  Teba. 

From  this  marriage  : 

Napoleon    Eugdne  Louis  Jean  Joseph 
Prince  Imperial,  bom  in  1856 ;  killed 
in  Zululand  in  1879 

6th.  Marie  Pauline  (1780-1825),  married 
(x)    in  1801  to  General  Leclerc. 
(a)   in  X803  to  Prince  CamiUe  Borgheae. 
No  children. 




IN  1765. 
marriage  : 


7th.  Caroline  Marie  Annonciade  (1782- 
1839),  married  Joachim  Murat  in  x8oo. 

From  this  marriage  : 

(x)  Napoleon  Achille  Charles  Louis 
Murat  (i8oi-x847)f  went  to  Florida 
where  he  married  a  fp'*Q<l-Qioco  of 
George  Washington. 

(2)  LflBtitia  Josftphe,  married  to  the 
Marquis  of  Pepoli. 

(3)  Lucien  Charles  Joseph  Francois 
Napoleon  Murat,  married  an  Ameri- 
can, a  Miss  Fraser,  in  1827.  From 
this  marriage  there  were  five  chil- 

(4)  Louise  Julie  Caroline,  married  Count 

VCd,  Jerome  (1784-1860),  married  : 

(x)  in  1803  to  Miss  Eliza  Patterson  of 

Baltimore;  and 
(2)  in  1807  to  the  Princess  Catharine  of 


From  first  marriage: 

Jerome  Napoleon  Bonaparte-Paterson 
(1805-1870)  married  in  xSag  to  Miss 
Suzanne  Gay.  Two  children  were 
bom  from  this  marriage : 

(x)   Jerome  Napoleon  Bonaparte  (x83a- 

(2)   Charles    Bonaparte,  at   present    a 
resident  of  Baltimore. 

From  second  marriage  : 



Jerome  Napoleon  Charles,  who  died 
in  X847. 

Mathilde  LaetiU  Wilhelmine,  mar- 
ried   in    X840  to  a   Russian,    Prince 
Demidoflf,  but  separated  from  him : 
known  as  the  Princess  Mathilde. 
(3)    Napoleon  Joseph  Charles  Paul,  call- 
ed Prince  Napoleon,  also  known  as 
Plon  Plon,  married  in  1859  the  Prin- 
cess   Clotilde,    daughter    of    King 
Victor  Emmanuel  of  Italy.    On  the 
death  of  the  Prince  Imperial,  in  1879, 
became    chief  of   the    Bonapartist 
party.     Died  in  1891.    Prince  Naix>- 
leon  had  three  children : 
(a)   Napoleon  Victor  Jerome  Freder- 
ick, born  in  1862,  called  Prince  Vic- 
tor and  the  present  Head  of  the 
House  of  Bonaparte. 
Napoleon  Louis  Joseph  Jerome. 
Marie  Lsetitia  Eugenie  Catharine 




Age.  Date.  Event. 

1769.  Aug.  15. — Napoleon  Bonaparte  born  at  Ajaccio,  in  Corsica. 
Fourth  child  of  Charles  Bonaparte  and  of  Laetitia.  nee 

9.  1778.  Dec. — Napoleon    embarks    for    France    with    his    father, 
his  brother  Joseph,  and  his  Uncle  Fesch. 


9.  1779.  Jan.  I. — Napoleon  enters  the  CoUege  of  .Autun. 

9.  1779.   April  23. — Napoleon  enters  the  Royal  Military  School  of 

5.  1784.  Oct.   23. — Napoleon   enters  the   Royal   Military  School  of 

6.  1785.  Sept.    I. — Napoleon    appointed    Second    Lieutenant    in    the 
Artillery  Regiment  de  la  Fere. 

6.  1785.  Oct.  29. — Napoleon  leaves  the  Military  School  of  Paris. 

6.  1785.  Nov.  5  to  Aug.   II,  1786. — Napoleon  at  Valence  with  his 

7.  1786.  Aug.  15  to  Sept.  20. — Napoleon  at  Lyons  with  regiment. 
7.  1786.  Oct.  17  to  Feb.  I,  1787. — Napoleon  at  Douai  with  regiment. 

7.  1787.  Feb.  I  to  Oct.  14. — Napoleon  on  leave  to  Corsica. 

8.  1787.  Oct.    15   to  Dec.   24. — Napoleon  quits  Corsica,   arrives  in 
Paris,  obtains  fresh  leave. 

8.  1787.  Dec.  25  to  May.  1788. — Napoleon  proceeds  to  Corsica  and 
returns  early  in  May. 

18-19.  1788.  May  to  April  4.   1789. — Napoleon  at  Auxonne  with  regi- 



Age.  Date.  Event. 

19.  1789.  April  5  to  April  30. — Napoleon  at  Seurre  in  command  of  a 

19-20.  1789.  May  1  to  Sept.  15. — Napoleon  at  Auxonne  with  regiment 

20-21.  1789.  Sept.  16  to  June  i,  1791. — Napoleon  in  Corsica. 

21-22.  1 79 1.  June  2  to  Aug.  29. — Napoleon  joins  the  Fourth  Regiment 

of  Artillery  at  Valence  as  First  Lieutenant.  • 

22.  1791.  Aug.  "30. — Napoleon  starts  for  Corsica  on  leave  for  three 
months;  quits  Corsica  May  2,  1792,  for  France,  where 
he  has  been  dismissed  for  absence  without  leave. 

23.  1792.  Aug.  30. — Napoleon  reinstated. 

23.  1792.  Sept.  14  to  June  11.  1793. — Napoleon  in  Corsica  engaged  in 

revolutionary  attempts ;  having  declared  against  Paoli, 
he. and  his  family  are  obliged  to  quit  Corsica. 

23-  1793-  June  13  to  July  14. — Napoleon  with  his  company  at  Nice. 

24.  1793.  Oct.  9  to  Dec.  19. — Napoleon  placed  in  command  of  part 
of  artillery  of  army  of  Carteaux  before  Toulon,  19th 
Oct. ;  Toulon  taken  19th  Dec. 

24.  1793-  Dec.  22. — Napoleon  nominated  provisionally  General  of  Bri- 
gade; approved  later;  receives  commission.  i6th  Feb., 

24.  1793-  Dec.  26  to  April  i.  1794. — Napoleon  appointed  inspector  of 
the  coast  from  the  Rhone  to  the  Var,  on  inspection 

24.  1794.  April  I  to  Aug.  5. — Napoleon  with  army  of  Italy;  at  Genoa 
I5th-2ist  July. 

24-25.  1794.  Aug.  6  to  Aug.  20.  1794. — Napoleon  in  arrest  after  fall  of 


25.  1794.  Sept.  14  to  March  29.  1795. — Napoleon  commanding  ar- 
tillery of  an  intended  maritime  expedition  to  Corsica 

25.  1795.  March  27  to  May  10. — Napoleon  ordered  from  the  south  to 
join  the  army  in  La  Vendee  to  command  its  artillery; 
arrives  in  Paris,  loth  May. 

25-26.  1795.  June  13. — Napoleon  ordered  to  join  Hoche*s  army  at  Brest, 
f  to  command  a  brigade  of  infantry;    remains  in  Paris; 



Age.  Date.  Event. 

2ist  Aug..  attached  to  Comite  de  Salut  Public  as  one 
of  four  advisers;  15th  Sept..  struck  off  list  of  employed 
generals  for  disobedience  of  orders  in  not  proceeding  to 
the  west. 

26.  1795.  Oct.  5  (13th  Vendemiaire,  Jour  des  Sections). — Napoleon 
defends  the  Convention  from  the  revolt  of  the  Sections. 

26.  1795.  Oct.  16. — Napoleon  appointed  provisionally  General  of  Di- 

26.  1795.  Oct.  26. — Napoleon  appointed  General  of  Division  and  Com- 
mander of  the  Army  of  the  Interior  (i.  c,  of  Paris). 

26.  1796.  March  2. — Napoleon  appointed  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
Army  of  Italy;  9th  March,  marries  Madame  de  Beau- 
hamais,  n^e  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie. 

26.  1796.  March  11,  leaves  Paris  for  Italy. 

26.  1796.  First  Italian  campaign  of  Napoleon  against  Austrians  under 
Beaulieu.  and  Sardinians  under  Colli.  Battle  of 
Montenotte.  12th  April;  Millesimo.  14th  April;  Dego, 
14th  and  15th  April ;  Mondovi,  22d  April ;  Armistice 
of  Cherasco  with  Sardinians,  28th  April ;  Battle  of 
Lodi,  loth  May;  Austrians  beaten  out  of  Lombardy, 
and  Mantua  besieged. 

26.  1796.  July  and   August. — First  attempt  of  Austrians  to  relieve 

Mantua;  battle  of  Lonato,  31st  July;  Lonato  and  Cas- 
tiglione,  3d  Aug.;  and.  again.  Castiglione.  5th  and  6th 
Aug. ;  Wurmser  beaten  off,  and  Mantua  again  invested. 

27.  1796.  Sept. — Second  attempt  of  Austrians  to  relieve  Mantua ;  bat- 

tle of  Galliano,  4th  Sept. ;  Primolano.  7th  Sept. ;  Bas- 
sano,  8th  Sept. ;  St.  Georges,  15th  Sept. ;  Wurmser 
driven  into  Mantua  and  invested  there. 

27.  1796.  Nov.— Third  attempt  of  Austrians  to  relieve  Mantua;  bat- 
tles of  Caldiero.  nth  Nov.,  and  Areola.  15th.  i6th,  and 
17th  Nov. ;  Alvinzi  driven  off. 

27.  1797.  Jan. — Fourth  attempt  to  relieve  Mantua;  battles  of  Rivoli, 
14th  Jan.,  and  Favorita.  i6th  Jan. ;  Alvinzi  again  driven 

27.  1797.  Feb.  2. — Wurmser  surrenders  Mantua  with  eighteen  thou- 
sand men. 


Age.  Date.  Event. 

27.  1797.  March  10. — Napoleon  commences  his  advance  on  the  Arch- 

duke Charles;  beats  him  at  the  Tagliamento,  i6th 
March;  i8th  April,  provisional  treaty  of  Leoben  with 

28.  1797.  Oct.    17. — Treaty  of  Campo   Fcrmio  between    France  and 

Austria  to  replace  that  of  Leoben ;  Venice  partitioned, 
and  itself  now  falls  to  Austria. 

28.  1798.  Egyptian  expedition.  Napoleon  sails  from  Toulon.  19th 
May;  takes  Malta,  loth  June;  lands  near  Alexandria, 
1st  July;  Alexandria  taken,  2d  July;  battle  of  the 
Pyramids,  21st  July;  Cairo  entered,  23d  July. 

28.  1798.  Aug.  I  and  2.--Battle  of  the  Nile. 

29.  1799.  March   3. — Napoleon    starts   for   Syria;    7th    March,   takes 

Jaffa;  i8th  March,  invests  St.  Jean  d'Acre;  i6th  April, 
battle  of  Mount  Tabor;  22d  May.  siege  of  Acre  raised; 
Napoleon  reaches  Cairo.  14th  June. 

29.  1799.  July  25. — Battle  of  Aboukir ;  Turks  defeated. 

30.  1799.  Aug.   22. — Napoleon   sails   from   Egypt;   lands   at   Frejus, 

6th  Oct. 

30.  1799.  Nov.  9  and  10  (i8th  and  19th  Brumaire). — Napoleon  seizes 

30.  1799.  Dec.  25. — Napoleon.  First  Consul ;  Cambaceres,  Second 
Consul ;  Lebrun,  Third  Consul. 

30.  1800.  May  and  June. — Marengo  campaign.     14th  June,  battle  of 

Marengo;  armistice  signed  by  Napoleon  with  Melas. 
iSth  June. 

31.  1800.  Dec.  24  (3d  Nivose). — Attempt  to  assassinate  Napoleon  by 

infernal  machine. 

31.  1801.  Feb.  9. — Treaty  of  Luneville  between  France  and  Germany. 

31.  1801.  July   15. — Concordat  with  Rome. 

32.  1801.  Oct.   I. — Preliminaries  of  peace  between  France  and  Eng- 

land signed  at  London. 

32.  1802.  Jan.  26. — Napoleon  Vice-President  of  Italian  Republic. 
32.  1802.  March  27. — Treaty  of  Amiens. 


Age.  Date.  Event. 

32.  1802.  May  19. — Legion   of   Honor    instituted;    carried   out    14th 
July,   1814. 

32.  1802.  Aug.  4. — Napoleon  First  Consul  for  life. 

33.  1803.  May. — War  between  France  and  England. 

S3.  1803.  March  5. — Civil  Code  (later  Code  Napoleon)  decreed. 

34.  1804.  March  21. — Due  d'Enghien  shot  at  Vincennes. 

34-35.  1804.  May     18. — Napoleon,     Emperor     of    the     French    people; 

crowned,  2d  Dec. 

34.  1805.  May  26. — Napoleon  crowned  king  of  Italy  at  Milan,  with 
iron  crown. 

36.  1805.  Ulm  campaign;  25th   Sept.,  Napoleon  crosses  the  Rhine; 

14th  Oct.,  battle  of  Elchingen;  20th  Oct..  Mack  sur- 
renders Ulm. 

36.  1805.  Oct.  21.— Battle  of  Trafalgar. 

36.  1805.  Dec.  2. — Russians  and  Austrians  defeated  at  Austerlitz. 

36.  1805.  Dec.  26. — Treaty  of  Presburg. 

36.  1806.  July    I. — Confederation    of   the    Rhine    formed;    Napoleon 


37.  1806.  Jena    campaign    with     Prussia.     Battles    of  Jena   and  of 

Auerstadt.  14th  Oct. ;    Berlin  occupied,  27th  Oct. 

37.  1806.  Nov.  21. — Berlin  decrees  issued. 

37.  1807.  Feb.  8. — Battle  of  Eylau  with   Russians,  indecisive;    14th 
June,  battle  of  Friedland,  decisive. 

37.  1807.  July  8  and  9. — Treaty  of  Tilsit  signed. 

38.  1807.  Oct.  27. — Secret  treaty  of  Fontainebleau  between  France 

and  Spain  for  the  partition  of  Portugal. 

38.  1808.  March. — French  gradually  occupy  Spain ;  Joseph  Bonaparte 

transferred  from  Naples  to  Spain;    replaced  at  Naples 
by  Murat. 

39.  1808.  Sept.  27  to  Oct.  14. — Conferences  at  Erfurt  between  Na- 

poleon, Alexander  and  German  sovereigns. 


Age.  Date.  Event. 

39.  1808.  Nov.  and  Dec. — Napoleon  beats  the  Spanish  armies;  enters 
Madrid;  marches  against  Moore,  but  suddenly  re- 
turns to  France  in  January,  1809,  to  prepare  for  Aus- 
trian campaign. 

39.  1809.  Campaign    of    Wagram.     Austrians    advance.    lOth    April; 

Napoleon  occupies  Vienna.  13th  May;  beaten  back  at 
Essling.  22d  May ;  finally  crosses  Danube.  4th  July,  and 
defeats  Austrians  at  Wagram.  6th  July. 

40.  1809.  Oct.  14. — Treaty  of  Schonbrunn  or  of  Vienna. 
40.  1809.  Dec. — Josephine  divorced. 

40.  1810.  April  I  and  2. — Marriage  of  Napoleon,  aged  40.  with  Marie 

Louise,  aged  18  years  3  months. 

41.  1810.  Dec. — Hanseatic    towns    and    all    northern    coast   of   Ger- 

many annexed  to  French  Empire. 

41.  181 1.  March  20. — The  King  of  Rome,  son  of  Napoleon,  born. 

43-43-  1812. — War  with  Russia;  June  24,  Napoleon  crosses  the  Niemen; 

7th  Sept.,  battle  of  Moskwa  or  Borodino;  Napoleon 
enters  Moscow,  15th  Sept.;  commences  his  retreat.  19th 

43.  1812.  Oct.  22-23. — Conspiracy  of  General  Malet  at  Paris. 

43.  1812.  Nov.  26-28. — Passage  of  the  Beresina;  sth  Dec,  Napoleon 

leaves  his  army;  arrives  at  Paris,  i8th  Dec. 

43-44.  181 3.  Leipsic  campaign.    2d  May,  Napoleon  defeats  Russians  and 

Prus.sians  at  Liitzen;  and  again,  on  20th-2ist  May.  at 
Bautzen ;  26th  June,  interview  of  Napoleon  and  Mettcr- 
nich  at  Dresden ;  loth  Aug.,  midnight,  Austria  joins 
the  allies;  26th-27th  Aug..  Napoleon  defeats  allies  at 
Dresden,  but  Vandamme  is  routed  at  Kulm  on  30th 
Aug.,  and  on  i6th-i9th  Oct.,  Napoleon  is  beaten  at 

44.  1814.  Allies  advance  into  France;  29th  Jan..  battle  of  Brienne; 

1st  Feb.,  battle  of  La  Rothiere. 

44.  1814.  Feb.  5  to  March  18. — Conferences  of  Chatillon  (sur  Seine). 

44.  1814.  Feb.  II. — Battle  of  Montmirail;  14th  Feb.,  of  Vauchamps; 
i8th  Feb..  of  Montereau. 


Age.  Date.  Event. 

44.  1814.  March  7.--Battle  of  Craon;  gth-ioth  March,  Laon;  20th 
March,  Arcis  sur  TAubc. 

44.  1814.  March  21. — Napoleon  commences  his  march  to  throw  him- 
self on  the  communications  of  the  allies;  25th  March, 
allies  commence  their  march  on  Paris;  battle  of  La 
Fere  Champenoise,  Marmont  and  Mortier  beaten;  28th 
March,  Napoleon  turns  back  at  St.  Dizier  to  follow 
allies;  29th  March,  empress  and  court  leave  Paris. 

44.  1814.  March  30. — Paris  capitulates;  allied  sovereigns  enter  on 
1st  April. 

44.  1814.  April   2. — Senate    declares    the    deposition    of    Napoleon. 

who  abdicates,  conditionally,  on  4th  April,  in  favor  of 
his  son,  and  unconditionally  on  6th  April;  Marmont's 
corps  marches  into  the  enemy's  lines  on  5th  April ;  on 
nth  April.  Napoleon  signs  the  treaty  giving  him  Elba 
for  life ;  20th  April,  Napoleon  takes  leave  of  the  Guard 
at  Fontainebleau ;  3d  May.  Louis  XVIIL  enters  Paris; 
4th  May,  Napoleon  lands  in  Elba. 

45.  1814.  Oct.    3. — Congress    of    Vienna    meets    for    settlement    of 

Europe;  actually  opens  3d  Nov. 

45-  1815.  Feb.  26. — Napoleon  quits  Elba;  lands  near  Cannes,  ist 
March;  19th  March.  Louis  XVIIL  leaves  Paris;  20th 
March.  Napoleon  enters  Paris. 

45-  1815.  June  16. — Battle  of  Ligny  and  Quatre  Bras;  i8th  June,  bat- 
tle of  Waterloo. 

45-46.  1815.  June  29.^Napoleon  leaves  Malmaison  for  Rochefort;  sur- 
renders to  English.  15th  July;  sails  for  St.  Helena,  8th 
Aug. ;  arrives  at  St.  Helena,  15th  Oct. 

51  yrs.  }  jg^j    ^^y  g — Napoleon  dies,  5.45  p.  m.  ;  buried,  8th  May. 

1821.  May  5. — Napoleon  dies.  5.45  P.  m.  ;   buried.  8th  May. 

1840.  Oct.  15. — Body  of  Napoleon  disentombed;  embarked  in  the 
**  Belle  Poule,**  commanded  by  the  Prince  de  Joinville, 
son  of  Louis  Philippe,  on  16th  Oct. ;  placed  in  the  Inva- 
lides,  15th  Dec.  1840. 


Abdication  of  Napoleon,  263. 

Abouhir  Bay,  91,  93. 

Adige,  68,  71,  72. 

Alexander  1..  Emperor  of  Russia. 

168,  17s,  301,  203.  235. 
Alvinzi,  71,  72. 
Amiens,  treaty  of,  103. 
Amiens,  treaty  of,  broken,  103,  143, 
Anna  Paulowna,  225. 
Areola,  bridge  of,  72.  78. 
Armstrong,     U.     S.     Minister     to 

France,  195,  196. 
Army  of  Egypt,  91, 
Army  of  Italy,  61,  62,  81. 
Art  a<;qui?;hionj  from  Italy.  82.  Sj. 

Augereau,  62,  63,  259. 
Auslcrlitz,  battle  of.  167.  168.  169, 
Austria,  Emperor  of,  17. 
n  army.  67.  68,  69. 

I  army,   driven   from   Italy. 


Austrian s,  64-66. 
Austrians  at  Rivoli. 
Autun,  19,  21,  31. 

Bacciochi,  Mme..  89. 

Baden,  Grand  Duchess  of,  407. 

Baden,  Prince  Augusie  of,  3S9, 

Bank  of  France.  107. 

Barras.  Paul,  j?,  48,  53.  S4-S5.  340, 

34 1   342,  344.  345- 
Bassano,  69.  71. 

Battle  of  Austerlitz,  167,  168,  169. 

Battle  of  Bautzen,  2,'i3. 

Battle  of  Borodino,  241. 

Battle  of  Lylau.  173. 

Battle  of  Friedland,  173,  175. 

Battle  of  Hohcniindtn,    03. 

Battle  of  Jena,  J71     1^2. 

Battle  of  La  Favorita.  73. 

Battle  of  Lodi.  65,  66. 

Battle  of  Liitzen.  253. 

Battle  of  Marengo,  98,  99,  loi. 

Battle  of  Pyramids,  90. 

Battle  of  Rivoli,  73. 

Battle  of  Wagram,  216,  217,  219. 

Battle  of  Waterloo,  273. 

Bautzen,  battle  of,  253. 

Bay  of  Aboukir.  see  Aboukir  Bay. 

Baylen,  198. 

Beauharnais,    Alexander    de.    328, 

329.  330.  331.  332.  334.  335.  336, 

337,  338. 
Beauharnais,    Eugene    de,   89.    94, 

179.  216,  222,  331,  332,  336,  340, 

341.  342.  378,  390,  41S,  418,  419. 

421.  422.  43;.  449. 
Beauharnais,  Horlense  de,  8g,  222. 

332.  337,  340,  372-  373.  378.  390. 

401.  407,  408,  409,  41S,  417.  431. 

433.  449-450- 

caulicu,  63,  65.  75. 

Belle  Poulc,    303.  30s.  307,  308. 

Bellerophon,''  279,  283. 
Benningsen,  173. 
Berlin  decree,  193.  "95.  233- 
Bemadotle,  47,  171,  233,  235,  255, 



Bernard,  Postmaster-general,  135. 
Berthier,  Gen.,  99,  187. 
Bcrtrand,  309.  318,  320. 
Bonaparte,  Caroline,  31,  179. 
Bonaparte,  Charles    Marie    de,    17, 

18,  19.  21,  23,  31. 
Bonaparte,  Eliza,  31,  179,  2^7. 
Bonaparte,  Jerome.  31.  35»  yj*  I53. 

154,  179,  181,  183,  320. 
Bonaparte,  Joseph,    19,   21,   31,   32, 

89.  179.  I97»  198,  302,  320. 
Bonaparte,  Louis.  31,  153,  179. 
Bonaparte,  Lucicn,  31,  43,  89,  148, 

149,  154,  201. 
Bonaparte,  Mme.,  43. 
Bonaparte,  Mme.  Louis,  yj^,  374. 
Bonaparte,  Pauline,    31,    179,    185, 

391,  392. 
Borghese,  Princess,  179. 
Borodino,  Battle  of.  243. 
Botanical  garden     at      Malmaison, 

366,  367. 
Boulogne,  fete  of,  155.  156. 
Bourbons  of  Spain,  abdicate,  198. 
Bourrienne,  25,  37-38.  222. 
Boyer,  Christine,  43,  89. 
Brenta,  69,  71. 
Bridge  of  Lodi,  66. 
Brienne,  21,  22,  23,  25,  27,  28,  31. 
Broglie,  Due  de,  Marshal,  35. 
Brunswick,  172. 


"  Cabinet  noir,"  135. 
Cabrera,  Island  of,  198. 
Cadiz,  French  fleet  at,  198. 
Cadoudal,  Georges,  143,  151,  152. 
Cambaceres,  153. 

Campan,  Mme.,  154,  340,  372,  373. 
Campo  Formio,' treaty  of,  74. 
Carmes,  les,  337,  338,  340. 
Castiglione,  68. 

Catholic  Church  re-established,  120, 
121,  123,  124. 

Char  don.  Abbe,  21. 

Charles,  Archduke  of  Austria,  2IJ, 

Charles  IV..  King  of  Spain,  197. 
*'  Chemin  d'Angleterre,"  145. 
Cherbourg,  308. 
Cisalpine  Republic,  74.  98. 
Clary.  Desiree,  45-46. 
Clary,  Julie.  44. 

*'  Code  Napoleon,"  12s    127.  128. 
Colombier.  Mile.,  29. 
Colombier,  Mme.,  29. 
**  Concordat  "  signed.  121,  123. 
Conscription,  resentment  against, 231. 
Constituent  Assembly,  334. 
"  Continental  blockade,"  193.  195. 
Coronation  of  Josephine,  381,  382- 

Coronation  of  Napoleon,   156.  157, 

159.  160. 
Corsica.  22,  34. 
Corsicans,  revolt  of.  18. 
Courbevoie,  309. 
Croissv,  54.  55,  336. 


Dantzic,  siege  of,  173,  177. 
Danube,    crossing    of    by    French 

army,  216,  217. 
Davoust.  171,  172. 
d'Abrantes,  Duchess,  45. 
d'Enghien,  Due,  151.  152. 
d'Orleans,  Due,  28-29. 
De  Keralio,  25,  26. 
De  Molleville,  128. 
de  Segur,  156,  199,  200. 
Decree  of  Berlin,  see  Berlin  decree. 
Dccres,  Gen.,  62. 
Denmark,  195. 
Denon.  138. 
Dcsaix,  99,  loi. 

'*  Description  de  TEgypte,"  gi. 
"  Directory,"   in   regard  to   Italian 

campaign,  69,  72. 

"  Directory,"  ^^. 
Donau worth,  213. 
Due     d'Ei^hien,     see     d'E 

Duroc,  Marshall,  253.  320. 

Ecole  militaire,  27.  28. 
i8ih  Brumaire.  94,  103. 
Elba.  265. 
F.lj=ee  Palace,  423. 

Emigres.     II9.  I20. 
Essling.  215. 
Eylau,  battle  of.  173. 

Ferdinand,  heir  apparent  of  Spain. 

Finland.  203. 
Fontainebleau,  379.  381. 
Fort  Roy  ale,  327- 
Fouche.  134-  211.  275,  401,  402. 
French  anny,  in  Italy,  69. 
Friedland,  battle  of,  173.  175- 
Fulton,  Robert,  145.  147- 

Gaete,  Due  dc,  107. 
"Gardc-Meublt."  203. 
Gaudin,  Mon..  107, 
Gco(troy-Sl.-Hiiairc.  91. 
Girondins.  336. 
Goethe,  203. 

■■  Grand  army,"  237.  239,  247. 
Great   Britain,  decree  against,   193, 



Hesse-Casscl,  i77- 
Hippoiyte,  Charles.  94.  354. 
Hoche,  Gen.,  337.  340. 
Hohenlinden,  lattle  of.  103. 
Holland.  King  of.  179.  183.  233- 
Hotel  des  Invalidcs.  311,  313,  3iS. 
317,  318,  319-  320. 

Institute  of  Egypt,  91. 

Island  of  Cabrera,  see  Cabrera,  Is- 

Italian  campaign,  61. 


Jena,  battle  of.  171,  172. 

John,  Archduke,  216. 

Joinville,  Prince  de,  295,  303,  306, 
307.  309.  313,  317.  318. 

Jomini,  256. 

Josephine,  Vicomtesse  de  Beauhar- 
nais,  54-55.  57. 

Josephine,  notre  dame  des  victoires, 

Josephine,  in  Italy.  86,  87. 

Josephine.  Empress.  159,  160. 

Josephine,  divorced,  221,  222,  ^23. 

Josephine,  at  M.-ilmai-un.  225, 

Josephine,  at  Evreux.  33S. 

Josephine,  childhood,  326,  327. 

Josephine,  at  school,  327. 

Josephine,  goes  to  France  with  her 
father   330. 

Josepltine,  married  Alexander  de 
Seauhamais,  331. 

Jojitphinc,  divorced  from  Alexan- 
der de  Beauharnai>.  ,^32. 

Josephine,  111  Paris,  m-^^. 

Josephine,  imprisoned  in  les  Carmes, 
337.  338. 

Josephine,  at  functions  given  by 
Directory.  340. 

Josephine,  meets  Napoleon,  342. 

Josephine,  courted  by  Napoleon, 

Josephine,  feelings  towards  Napo- 
leon, 343-345- 

Josephine.  married  to  Napoleon, 

Josephine,  goes  to  Italy.  347-349. 

Josephine,  at  Milan,  347-349.  3SI- 

Paris    from 


Josephine,    Napoleon's    letters 
348,  349- 

Italy.  353. 
Josephine,     attitude     towards     the 

Bonapartes,  354-355- 
Josephine,  buys  Malmaison.  355. 
Josephine,  letter  to  Napoleon,  356- 

Jusephine,   as   wife  of  First  Con- 
sul, 361-363.  365, 
Josephine,     her     appearance,     36^. 

Josephine,  fondness  for  flowers  and 

dogs.  366.  367. 
Josephine,  at  St.  Cloud.  3?S.  376, 
Josephine,      proclaimed      Empress. 

Josephine,    religious    marriage    to 

Napoleon.  381. 
Josephine,  journey  through  Italy  a^ 

Empress.  388,  389. 
Josephine,    graciousness    to    others. 

392-  393- 
Josephinc.   fondness   for   her   loilcl, 

Josephine.  her  jewels,  39?.  398. 
Josephine,  crowned  Empres,';,  3R1- 

Josephine,  hears  rumors  of  divorce. 

401,  406,  414- 
Josephinc,  at  Bayonne,  404.  405. 
Josephine,  at  Plombieres,  4Qfj.  41  [. 
Josephine,  told  of  the  divorce.  417. 

Josephine,   officially    divorced,   419- 



Josephine,     r. 

after  divorce.  422-426. 

Josephine,  at  Navarre.  427,  428. 

Josephine,  at  Malmaison,  430, 

Josephine,  fondness  for  her  grand- 
children, 437. 

Josephine,  position  in  France.  440. 

Josephine,  learns  of  Napoleon's  ab- 
dication, 446. 

Josephine,  and  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander, 446.  447, 

Josephine,  dies  at  Malmaison,  448, 

Joubertlion.  Mme..   154. 

Junot.  41,  42,  45,  61,  196,  198.  34?. 

Kellermann.  77. 

■  King  of  Rome,"  2x3,  238,  235,  261, 

266,  435. 
Konigsberg,  173. 

La  Favorita.  battle  of,  73. 

Landgrafenberg,  171. 

Lannes.  155,  207.  215, 

La.CL^..  A<.  285.  303- 

"  La  Vendee."  95. 

Le  Brun.   153. 

Loclcrt,  Mine.,  89. 

Lefebvre.  Mar.'hall.  173. 

"  Legion  of  Honor,"   125. 

"  Legitimists."  302. 

Leipsic.  256. 

Ligny.  273- 

"  Little  Corporal."  78, 

Lobau.  Island  of,  213.  215,  216. 

Lodi,  65,  66, 

Lodi,  bridge  of,  78.  83. 

Lombard  Republic,  66. 

Lonato,  68, 

Long  wood.  285-287. 

Louis  XVIIl.,  269. 

Louis  Phili|i]n',  i')<,.  300,  302,  318. 

Louise.  Queen  of  Prussia.  177. 

Louisiana,  sale  of,  147,  148. 

Lowe,  Sir  Hudson,  285-287. 

Lyons.  269. 

Lucque=.  Princess  of.  179. 

Luncville.  treaty  of.  103. 

Liitzen,  battle  of,  253, 


"  Madame  Mere,"  i8,  153,  366. 
Magdeburg,  177. 
Maintenon.  Mme.  de,  27. 
llalet  conspiracy,  248. 
Malraaison.  223.  225.  275,  355.  365- 

367.  3'59-370.  37A-37S,  4".  432- 

426.  428,  449-4SO- 
Manlua,  sieqe  of,  66-69,  7i.  73- 
Marboeuf   Count  de,  19.  23.  29- 
Marbot,  305- 

Marcngo,  liallle  of,  98-99,  lOi. 
Marie  Louise,  17.  37-  225,  227-228. 

366,  271.  289. 
Marmonc.  62,  263. 
Marrac.  castle  of,  404.  40S- 
Martinique,    sland  o{,  325,  326. 
Masson,  338. 
Mecklcnbure-Schwerin,   Prince   of, 

Melas,  Gen.,  97.  98. 
Meneval.  222,  223. 
Metiemich,  253,  255. 
Mincio,  66. 
Minim  Brothers,  22. 
Mion-Desplaccs.  Mile.,  31. 
Moldavia,  203. 
Moncey  Marshal,  317. 
Monge.  91. 
Mont  Cenis,  160. 
Montenotte,  6y 
Moniesson,  Mme,  de.  28-29. 
Monlholon,  287. 
Montmorency,  Mnie.  de.  200. 
Moreau,  Gen.,  95,  151-152.  25s,  256. 
Moscow.  243,  245. 
Muiron.  Col.,  78. 
Murat,  197.  212.  *S8. 
Murat,  Mme.,  377. 
Museum  of  Paris,  81. 

Naples,  King  of.  179.  181,  258. 
Napoleon,  as  a  youth,  18,  19. 

£X  48 1 

Napoleon,  at  school,  2t,  22,  23,  25, 


Napoleon,  First  Consul,  29. 

Napoleon,  second  lieutenant  at  Val- 
ence, 28-29. 

Napoleon,  literary  projects,  33,  34. 

Napoleon,  in  regard  to  finances,  35, 

Napolcon,  in  Paris,  38,  39. 

Napoleon,  command.  Second  Regi- 
ment of  Artillery.  41. 

Napoleon,  prisoner,   1794,    44. 

Napoleon,  Committee  of  Public 
Safety,  48. 

Napoleon.  General  in  chief  of  army 

of  in 

I  51- 

Napoleon,  defends  the  Tuileries,  48, 

Napoleon,  in  salon  of  Barras  and 

Mme.  Taltien,  54. 
Napoleon,  courtship  and  marriage, 

57.  58. 
Napoleon,  love  letters.  58.  59. 
Napoleon,  General,  army  of  Italy, 

Napoleon,  speech    to    his    soldiers, 

Napoleon,  at  Bridge  of  Lodi,  65, 

Napoleon,  enters  Milan,  66. 
Napoleon,  concludes  peace  with  Na- 
ples. 67. 
Napoleon,  at  Lonato.  68. 
Napoleon,  defeats  Wurmser,  69. 
Napoleon,  letter   to    Directory,   69, 

Napoleon,  Rivoli,  '3. 
Napoleon,  signs  with  Pope  treaty  of 

Tolentino.  73. 
Napoleon,   signs  treaty  of  Campo 

Formio,  74. 
Napoleon,  rules  of  warfare.  75. 
Napoleon,  fertility  in  stratagem,  7S> 


,  belief  in  signs.  83. 

,  letters  to  Josephine,  85. 

482  mi 

Napoleon,  answer  to  Directory,  77. 
Napoleon,  soldiers'  adoration  of,  77. 

Napoleon,  addresses  to  soldiers,  79, 


86,  87. 

Napoleon,    returns    to    Paris    from 
Italy,  89- 

Napoleon.     commander     in     chief. 
army  of  Egypt.  90. 

Napoleon,  in  Egypt,  90.  91,  93. 

Napoleon,  failure  of   Syrian   expe- 
dition. 9J. 

Napoleon,    returns    lo    Paris    from 
Egypt.  9,1.  94. 

Napoleon.  Dictator  of  France.  94. 

Napoleon,  crossing  the  Alps.  97. 

Napoleon,    addresses    his    soldiers, 

Napoleon,  at  Marengo.  98. 

Napoleon.  First    Consul.    105.    106. 

Napoleon,  in  regard  to  taxes,   108. 
109,  no. 

Napoleon,  his  policy  of  protection. 
no,  III. 
■   Napoleon.  itnprovcmenlB    made    in 
Paris,  113. 

Napoleon,      his      vast      industrial 
achievements    113-115,   n?. 

Napoleon,  his  anmc-ly  to  the  Emi- 
gres, 119.  120. 

Napoleon,    reestablishes   the   Cath- 
olic  Church  in  France,   120,   121, 

I2J.    124. 

Napoleon,   establishes  school.    124. 

Napoleon,  codification  of  the  laws. 

125.  127.  128. 
Napoleon,     preparations     for     war 

against  England.  144,  145. 
Napoleon,  sells  Louisiana.  147,  148. 

Napoleon.  First  Consul,  plot  against 

bis  life,  151. 
Napoleon,  Emperor,  153. 
Napoleon.  Emperor,  in   matters   of 

etiquette,  155. 
Napoleon.     Emperor,     crowned    at 

Notre  Dame,  156,  157.  159.  160. 
Napoleon,  addresses  to  his  soldiers, 

Napoleon.  King  of  Italy.  160. 
Napoleon,  marches  against  the  Aus- 

trians  and  Russians.  164.  165.  167. 
Napoleon,   at    Auslerlitz,    167,    iSSr 

Napoleon,  at  Jena.  171. 
Napoleon.  Museum  of  Paris,  172. 
Napoleon,  at  battle  of  Jena.  172. 
Napoleon,  at  battle  of  Eylau,  173. 
Napoleon,   at  battle  of  Friedland, 

173.  175- 
Napoleon,  at  Tilsit.   175. 
Napoleon,  treaty  of  Tilsit.  177,  178, 
Napoleon,  advice   to   his    brothers. 

179.   iSi.   183, 
Napoleon,  hatred  against  England. 

Napoleon,     policy     towards    Great 

Britain.   193.  195, 
Napoleon,  altitude  towards   Spain. 

197.  198. 
Napoleon,    founds   a   new   nobility. 


o  reconcile  Lucien, 

Napoleon,    meets   Alexander   I.   at 

Erfurt,  203. 
Napoleon,  Spanish   campaign,   205, 

206,  207,  209- 
Napoleon,  charge    against    Talley- 

Napoleon,    at    battle    of    Wagram, 

2i6.  217,  2ig. 
Napoleon,  divorces  Josephine,  221, 

222,  223. 



Napoleon,    marries    Marie    Louise 

(by  proxy),  225. 
Napoleon,  imprisons  the  Pope.  229. 
Napoleon,    preparing    for    Russian 

campaign,  237. 
Napoleon,  at  Moscow,  243. 
Napoleon,    retreat    from    Moscow, 

243,  245.  247. 
Napoleon,  campaign   of   1813,   253. 

255,  256.  257. 
Napoleon,  campaign   of    1814,   258, 

261,  262. 
Napoleon,   encamped   at   Fontaine- 

bleau,  262. 
Napoleon,  abdication  at  Fontaine- 

bleau,  263. 
Napoleon,  at  Elba,  265,  266.  267. 
Napoleon,  returns  from  Elba,  267. 

2(5^  271. 
Napoleon,  his  happiest  period,  271. 
Napoleon,  at  Waterloo,  2^^^  275. 
Napoleon,  abdicates  anew,  275. 
Napoleon,  plan  to  escape  to  United 

States,  275,  276,  277. 
Napoleon,     gives    himself    up     to 

English,  T^jf^ 
Napoleon,  at  St.  Helena,  283,  285, 

286,  287. 
Napoleon,  dies  at  St.  Helena,  287. 

Napoleon,  loved  by  his  men,  293. 
Napoleon,  body    brought    back    to 

France.  305,   306,   307,   308,  309, 

311.  312. 
Napoleon,  funeral    in    Paris.    312- 

315.  317,  318. 
Napoleon.  Charles,    374,    376,    m, 

Napoleon.  Louis,  401,  433. 
National  Assembly,  34. 
"  Nautilus,"    Fulton's   diving  boat, 

Navarre,   423,   427.   428.   433.   435. 


Nelson,  Lord,  91. 

Newspaper    criticisms    on    Napo- 
leon's return  from  Elba,  269. 
Ney,  Marshal,  269. 
"  Northumberland,"  283. 
Notre  Dame,  379. 
Notre  dame  des  victoires,  85,  347. 

O'Connell,  299,  300. 
Olmiitz,  166.  167. 
O'Meara,  285. 
**  Opera  plot."  133.  134. 
"  Orleanists,"  302. 
Orleans,    Duke   of,   see   d'Orleans, 

Paisiello,  141. 

Palmerston,  Lord,  299,  300. 
Panthemont,  Abbey  de,  zzz,  340. 
Paoli,  Pascal,  18.  19,  22. 
Papal  States,  67,  ^Z- 
Paris  capitulates,  261. 
Patterson,  Miss  Elizabeth,  154. 
Permon,  Mme.,  53. 
Pcrmons,  27,  28,  51. 
Pichegru,  151,  152. 
Pius  VI L  a  prisoner.  229. 
Placentia,  65. 
Plombieres.  353.  409.  411. 
Plot  of  the  3rd  Nivose.  133.  134. 
Plymouth,  279. 
Po,  crossing  of  the,  65. 
Poland.  172,  173. 
Ponte-Corvo,  Prince  of,  235. 
Pontecoulant,  Monsieur  de.  51. 
Portugal,  195,  198. 
Portugal  divided,  196. 
Portugal  forced  to  close  ports,  196- 
Presburg,  treaty  of.  169. 
Press  censorship,  135. 
Provera.  72.  y^ 
Prussia,  King  of,  175. 
I  Pyramids,  battle  of,  90. 



Quasdanovich,  67-68. 
*•  Quatrc  Bras,"  273. 

Rambouillet,  403. 
Ramolino,  Laetitia.  17,  18. 
Ratisbonne,  213. 
Raynal.  Abbe,  33, 
Remusat,  Count  de,  303. 
Remusat,  Mme.  de,   154.   155.  362, 

392,  424. 
Renaudin,  Mon.,  328. 
Renaudin.  Mme.,  328.  329,  330.  331, 

Reuil,  449. 

Revolution  of  1789.  34. 

R  voli,  battle  of.  7^^. 

Robespierre,  the  elder,  43-44. 

Robespierre,  the  younger,  43,  339. 

Rochefoucauld,    Due     de   la,    329, 

Rouen,  308. 

Russia,  Emperor  of.  201,  203. 


Saale,  171. 

St.  Cloud.  223,  374.  375. 

St.  Cyr.  31. 

Saint-Germain,  Comtc  de.  35. 

St.  Helena.  283,  285,  286. 

St.  Pierre,  town  of,  325. 

Salon.  138. 

Saragossa,  siege  of.  206.  207,  209. 

Sardinians,  sue  for  peace,  64. 

Sannois,  Mile.  Rose-Claire  des  Ver- 
gers de,  326. 

Savon  a,  229. 

Saxony,  King  of.  177. 

Schonbrunn,  Castle  of,  216. 

School  of  Fine  Arts.  28. 

Second  revolution.  37-38. 

Segur,  Mon.  de,  see  de  Segur, 

Serbelloni.  Due  de,  348,  349,  351. 

Sieyes,  Abbe,  105,  106. 

Smolensk,  241,  243,  247. 

Soult.  168. 

Spain,  Government  of,  197,  198. 

Spain,  King  of,  196,  198,  257. 

Spanish  campaign.  205.  206,  207, 209. 

Stael,  Mme.  de,  135,  137,  431. 

Sweden,  233. 

Syrian  expedition.  93. 

Tagliamento,  crossed,  74. 
Talleyrand,  211,  212,  262,  275,  301, 

399.  401. 
Tallien,    Mme.,    54,    55,    338,    339, 

340.  342.  347.  358. 
Talma.  369. 
Tascher  de  la  Pagerie,  Joseph,  325, 

326,  328.  330. 
Theatre  Fran^ais,  203. 
Thiers,  Mon.,  300,  301. 
Tilsit,  treaty  of.  175,  177,  178. 
Tolentino,  treaty  of,  73. 
Toulon.  41. 

Treaty  of  Amiens,  103. 
Treaty  of  Campo  Formio,  74, 
Treaty  of  Luneville.  103. 
Treaty  of  Presburg,  169. 
Treaty  of  Tilsit,  175,  177,  178. 
Treaty  of  Tolentino,  73. 
Trieste,  219. 
Trois  Ilets,  325.  326,  327. 
Tuileries,  381. 


Ulm,  capitulati  n  of,  165. 

United   States   not   allowed  to  re- 
main neutral,  196. 
Unnatural  alliance,"  235. 


Valence.  29. 
Verona.  71-73. 



Volta,  138,  139. 
Vienna,  213,  216. 
Vimciro,  198. 
Visconti,  Mme.  dc,  187. 
Vittoria,  198. 


Wagram,  Austrians'  position,  216. 
Wagram,  battle  of,  216,  217,  219. 
Walewski,    Mme.,    401,    403,    404, 

Wallachia,  203. 
Warsaw,  177. 
Waterloo,  battle  of,  273. 
Westphalia,  177. 
Westphalia,  King  of,  179. 
Wieland,  203. 
Wilder,  S.  V.  S.,  276. 
William,  Prince  of  Prussia,  203. 
Wurmser,  Gen.,  67,  68,  69,  72. 
Wurmser  surrenders,  y^. 


I    ! 



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